dochermes

"Snow, Cold, Darkness and Death"

1/21-1/22/2013

I.

By midnight, three inches of wet heavy snow had fallen and more was coming down. On the deserted back roads of the north end of Long Island, a dark massive form stomped along doggedly. Even through the clouds, enough moonlight penetrated to see by. At a crossroads, headlights cautiously approached from behind. The dark figure stopped as a big white SUV slowed to a halt. A power window slid down and a man' voice called out, "Hey buddy, get in! I'm going your way."

A second later, the huge form reached the SUV and unexpectedly yanked the door open. A huge gnarled hand clamped down on the driver's arm and hauled him violently out. Getting a glimpse of a horribly twisted white face from the back glow of the headlights, the helpful man barely took in breath to scream before his neck was broken and his body thrown effortlessly ten feet off the road into the bushes.

The giant bulk squeezed in behind the wheel, pulled the door shut and started the vehicle forward at reckless speed. Through the still open window, a surprisingly mellow and polished voice said, "Thank you ever so much, my good man."

II.

At eight-thirty AM, Haley Lawson stepped out the front door of her house while her mother was enjoying a second cup of coffee. The seventeen year old was prudently wearing boots, heavy sweat pants, her bright blue down-filled coat and black gloves. It wasn't that cold out, just under freezing, but she had pulled her auburn hair up under a wool ski cap.

It looked like the roads had been plowed well enough. She faced the patio and fifteen feet of driveway. Haley's green eyes were bright enough with the pupils contracted from the glare off the snow, but the glee in them added to the effect. The snow shovel remained untouched in the garage where her mom's car was safely parked.

This was going to take some concentration. Under her coat and sweater, the ancient Air Gem was fastened securely to a choker around her neck. Haley visualized what she wanted to summon, nothing too dramatic or violent. Part of her mind reached out through the Melgar talisman and summoned warm arid air from New Mexico. The snow began visibly melting, sinking down and running off, leaving a patch of the driveway exposed. The Windcatcher kept at it, bringing more warm air to expose the entire driveway and patio. She satisfied herself that the asphalt was dry and there wouldn't be any ice forming from moisture refreezing.

Placing her hands on her narrow hips, Haley beamed with self-approval. The whole process had still taken maybe ten minutes but was easier than shoveling. She went back inside the snug cozy kitchen, plopped down ungracefully on a chair and began unlacing her boots. "All done," she announced.

Lisa Lawson did not much resemble her daughter. She was shorter than Haley's five feet seven and had black hair and darker green eyes. They had the same sassy grin though. Putting down her cup, she said, "And it was a lot easier than it was getting you OR your sister to do it the old-fashioned way."

"Maybe I should go around the neighborhood, clearing off everybody's walks and stuff," Haley said. She started gathering ingredients for some Shredded Wheat, including a plastic bowl big enough for a chef salad. Almond milk, sugar, one of those bananas on the windowsill...

"Honestly, I don't think that's such a great idea," her mother said. "This isn't an emergency. Only four inches on a Sunday morning and people can handle it without the Windcatcher. I think the danger is that if you start doing feats like that, everyone will quickly come to expect it from you. And then you'll be caught in an obligation."

"Hmm. Yeah, you got a point." Haley brought her cereal over to the table and began to shovel it down. Slender and coltish, she had the teenager's gift of being able to eat constantly without putting on weight. After a few mouthfuls, she went on, "When you had the Air Gem, did people bug you to help them out alla time?"

"No, because we didn't start. We used our Gems sparingly. I've told you what happened when I tried to break up a thunderstorm and just made two separate storms that were worse. That's a great power you're fooling with, young lady. You can't catch mice with a hand grenade."

"Got it. Lesson taken to heart. I still think it's totally weird how casual everyone is about my flying over the town and everything. They're so, well, blasé. It's crazy."

Lisa folded up the local paper and handed it over to her younger daughter. "It was the same with us. Midnight War scholars think that's a side effect of the Gems. Their gralic effect sort of dampens everyone's curiosity. What did you say you were doing today again?"

"Oh, Gina's been texting me non-stop about a big Mysterious Mystery. A man's body was found out on Van Broek Road and his car was found miles away. She's all excited. I think she's been watching too many Unsolved Crime shows and sees us as genius detectives."

Lisa got up with her coffee cup and saucer and, seeing that her daughter had finished the cereal, took the bowl with her to the sink as well. "I know, I know, telling you to be careful is like telling a stone wall...."

"Mommmm," complained Haley. "I can summon tornadoes and fly. What could happen to me?"

( the rest of the story )

"Silk and Stone, Wood and Leather and Iron"

12/17/2013

I.

From one hundred feet up, Haley lessened the tornado winds which were propelling her through the sky. She lowered her legs, stretched her arms out to either side for balance and dropped toward her friends who were staring up with trepidation. Too fast. The Windcatcher cloak flipped around to cover her head and cut off her vision; she dropped down to slam hard into Timothy and Demrak Jin, tumbling all three of them end over end across the meadow. The frozen earth did not make the impact less punishing.

"Will you PLEASE pay attention!" shouted Timothy Limbo. He had ended up on the bottom of the heap, stretched out on his back with Haley sitting up near the top of his chest and Jin sprawled over his legs. The small Gelydran woman sputtered incoherently as she disentangled herself from Tim and Haley.

Getting the heavy blue cloak straightened out, Haley grinned down at her new KDF teammate. "Be honest, Tim. Back in school, lots of guys would have absolutely loved to have me sitting on them like this."

It was true. At eighteen, Haley Lawson was cute rather than gorgeous, tall and slender with trim long legs in blue tights. Her best feature was the pair of bright lime-green eyes under auburn bangs. She showed no inclination to get up off Tim.

For her own part, Demrak Jin was bristling with outrage. The Gelydra was only a few inches over five feet tall but wiry and lithe. She wore her Race's customary long-sleeved tunic and pants of abrasive grey shark-hide and had her bone-bladed long knife sheathed across her back. "You do not take seriously the great gift you have been given." she spat. "Perhaps you do not deserve the Air Gem."

Finally climbing up onto her feet, brushing back to tangling long hair from her face, Haley said, "Ease up, Sharkie. So I misjudged my approach a little. I knew my pals would be glad to catch me."

"Sharkie...!?"

"Come on, you guys, settle down." Timothy Limbo alone of the three partners had on the KDF field suit they were supposed to wear on missions to the other realms. The heavy boots, pants and waist-length jacket were not only made of tough protective material, they held a dozen small tools and gadgets in concealed pockets. Timothy stood up, tugging down his jacket where it had become twisted around, and gestured at the vast green expanse that reached down the hill where they stood. "We've got some hiking to do before it gets dark. Better get to it. We only have forty-eight hours here in Signarm before we zap back to the real world."

Haley began, "Why walk? This realm has got some great storms to the far north, I can sense them. Let me summon some two hundred mile per hour winds and I can fly us to this town where we're supposed to go..."

"No." The single word from the Gelydra carried immense conviction. In the late afternoon sunlight from a cloudless sky, Demrak Jin did look intimidating. In a wide flat face under bristling white hair, her eyes were sullen. Her people of Ulgor believed that each of them was born at the same time a shark was, and that the ferocious shark spirit lived in their hearts. Haley's attempts at nicknaming Jin "Sharkie" were not far off the mark.

Windcatcher wilted a little at the cold stare she was getting. "Oh, all right. I suppose walking gives us time to review this mission." She started leading the way at a brisk stride. "Now, let's start with we're in the northwest region of Signarm. It's called Barodal, kind of rustic and uninvolved in what the Barons and the King are up to."

"You are accurate so far," Jin admitted grudgingly as she trudged along behind her two mates. "What more can you say?"

"Well, it's farmland mostly. Wheat, tobacco, some corn. A lot of small villages but no towns big enough to really be called a city. The Barodalin are supposed to be pretty comfy here with lots to eat and their own homemade corn liquor to drink. If you go south, the Barons are always ganging up on each other in vicious little wars, but up here things are quieter."

"You have to admit, Haley was paying attention at our briefing." Timothy Limbo had slightly taken the lead as the slope slanted down more steeply. Coming into sight was a narrow river that sparkled silver in the sunlight, and wooden buildings could be made out along its bank. "We have a few observers here. That was Jeremy's doing, of course. When he was KDF leader, he tried to have some locals on retainer in every realm. They let us know if anything weird and ominous happens."

"Weird and ominous is what we're all about!" laughed Haley.

"Yep, true enough. Sable got a message from one of our observers here. Some of the farmers have been hurt by mysterious intruders. No fatalities so far, but broken arms and severe bruising are no joke. Houses have been ransacked and supplies like food and firewood stolen. And inhuman figures have been seen, running through the night."

"It's the sightings of these monsters that worry me," Haley put in. "Moving statues! Moving statues of iron and granite, smashing down doors and paying no attention to the pitchforks or shovels getting broken on them. Kind of a scary image, no wonder the rednecks of this realm are spooked."

"These creatures have not met US yet," Demrak Jin said.

( the rest of the story )

"The City Beneath the City"

8/17-8/19/2013

I.


Almost four AM in the rough neighborhood of Westfield on the edges of East LA. Josef Jubilec strode down a side street past an old bowling alley that had been boarded up years ago. He was a fit man two inches over six feet tall and dressed all in dark clothing... boots, pants, waist-length jacket. On his back was a knapsack longer than usual, and he held in his right hand a strange-looking device that looked like a wooden hoop. As he passed the single bulb burning over the door of the old bowling alley, Josef's long bony face with its short-cropped sandy hair could be clearly seen. He glanced around suspiciously and then kept walking.

A shiny black car slowed as it passed him. Not a glimpse of its occupants could be seen through the tinted windows, although the booming bass of the music was audible a block away. The car sped up again. Evidently, the people in the car saw nothing in Jubilec to interest them. As the car rounded the next corner, the Blind Archer smiled to himself. He had not seen a police cruiser in an hour, just cars full of drug dealers or cars with middle-aged men searching for hookers.

Josef paused at the corner. Across the street was a field through which a railroad track ran. There was a low wire fence that had been knocked down in several places. Josef saw a metal barrel surrounded by garbage, a sure sign that vagrants used it to burn scrap wood on chilly nights. He turned to look left and right, wondering if he should head back to the hotel and get some sleep before his team arrived later the next morning... well, this morning actually.

Then he spotted movement. Over by the railroad tracks, two dark figures were creeping through the gloom. One was short and squat, the other well over six feet tall and wearing a long coat of some sort. They were carrying bundles. The furtive movements and constant glancing in all directions would have seemed suspicious to any observer.

Watching them, determining that they had not noticed him standing next to the closed up building, the Blind Archer thumbed a button on the device he held, and the bow snapped open on its hinge by the grip. He disliked using a gimmicky folding bow such as this, being a purist who prefered a handcarved longbow, but when he was out in public he felt the folding bow was a little less conspicuous. He strung the bow and satisfied himself that it was ready.

Before he stepped out into the street, Josef reached behind his left shoulder and undid the top flap of his knapsack. The feathered ends of a dozen three-foot-long arrows were exposed. The knapsack was actually a quiver he had fashioned himself. He did not draw a shaft just yet, but crossed the street and began to follow the two sneaking figures by the tracks. As he approached, the smaller one caught sight of them and squawked in alarm. This close, Josef could make out that the smaller one was dressed in rags, including fingerless gloves and a wool hat pulled low on his head. He was carrying three plastic bags that were filled with some items.

Beside him, the tall figure swung around, his long coat swirling. Josef pegged him immediately as the real threat. Speeding up his pace, the Blind Archer called out, "Hold it, you two! I just want a few words."

The taller figure had longish black hair tied back in a ponytail. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and said in a deep bass voice, "Run, my friend. I will catch up to you."

"Yes, Imperatus! Hurry." As the smaller man took off at an awkward lope, the tall man suddenly raced directly at Josef with startling speed. He hurtled over the uneven ground faster than an Olympic sprinter. Alarmed at this unexpected twist, the Blind Archer reacted just as quickly. A shaft was notched and let fly in a flash. Josef had selected an arrow with a head of round hard rubber rather than one with a point. At the speed an arrow from his bow flew, those rounded heads struck with the force of a heavyweight boxer.

The arrow struck the onrushing man directly on the forehead and bounced off without any effect. Josef was startled and there was no time for a second shaft. The stranger called Imperatus was upon him in a rush, and one fist that felt like a block of iron crashed hard against the side of his face. The Blind Archer fell heavily onto his side, not entirely unconscious but dazed enough to be helpless. After a few minutes, his head cleared. Like other Tel Shai knights, decades on the tagra diet of Tel Shai had enhanced his body's healing beyond what medical science could explain. He leaped back onto his feet, not having let go of the bow even in his stunned condition, but both men were gone.

Josef searched the area for an hour but found nothing. It would be getting light soon. He walked briskly back the way he had come, folding his bow again and strapping it across the top of his knapsack. Entering a better neighborhood eventually, he found his rental car untouched where he had left it. He felt disappointed and sullen over the events. At least he would be able to get a few hours sleep before his team arrived from New York.

( the rest of the story )

"Crossing Ruby Kahn"

12/29/2013


Sheng was getting worried. He had been tied up before, often by experts, but his special ability to channel gralic force into his body had always enabled him to escape without much trouble. Sitting in that sturdy wooden chair, handcuffs binding his ankles to the legs of the chair and each hand to one arm of the furniture, he felt so frustrated he could scream. The cuffs were a strange design he had heard about but never seen in use. Each had a razor-sharp circle on its inner surface, and any pressure tightening the chain between the cuffs forced those circles inward. It was enough to restrain even the most unruly hardened thugs. Unless they held still, they cut deep gashes in their wrists and ankles. He had found this out the hard way.

What was really driving him crazy was that neither growing either superhumanly strong nor nearly invulnerable was any help. He could certainly increase his muscle power and snap the chain between the cuffs... but doing that would cut through his wrists and drop his severed hands to the floor. The same for his ankles. That seemed too high a price for escape. His other tactic would be using the gralic power to reinforce his skin and muscles and bones until he was nearly indestructible. Then the sharp circles couldn't hurt him but he also couldn't break the handcuffs with just his normal strength. What a mess. His usual sublime confidence was shaken as never before.

He had known Ruby Kahn by chance when she had been young Ruby Connelly who worked at Motor Vehicles, before her marriage and before she hs been lured over into the murky badlands of petty crime by a schemer who called himself Brancatelli. Whatever mastery of pyschological manipulation Brancatelli used, he had a record of dragging civilians into his con games and robberies, and then discarding them so he could move on with the loot. Sheng had always prayed for a chance to beat the hell out of Brancatelli, but the opportunity had never materialized. His own warnings to Ruby had been met with laughter as if he had said something hopelessly naive.

Sitting in that darkened back room, Sheng Mo-Yuan kept coming up with ideas for escape but dismissing them after a moment's thought. The best he could devise was throwing himself violently backward and trying to break the chair up, with the hope he could get an arm or a leg loose. But this seemed to have a low chance of success. The handmade chair felt massive enough to serve as a seat for a rhino. At five feet five and maybe a hundred and fifty pounds, the Chujiran adventurer did not see how he could muster enough impact to damage the chair.

The room was dark, with only a dim nightlight by one wall outlet providing even slight illumination. Well dressed in a light brown suit with a tan shirt and dark narrow tie, Sheng would seem Chinese to any observer. But aside from the skin tone and eyelid fold and coarse black hair, his sharply beaked nose and high cheekbones contradicted the first impression. As far as he knew, he was the only person from the real of Chujir in the world at that time. Ah well. At least, Uncle Pao had not come along on this case. The old man's insistence on traveling upstate to buy traditional herbs and dubious animal parts for medicine meant that he would escape if this was Sheng's last case.

Cold air brushed across him from behind and that scent of jasmine tingled. The door had opened and it had to be Ruby Kahn behind him. She had gone to get her orders from the Brancatelli. This had to mean his assassination. Sheng took a deep slow breath and focussed his gralic force into full resilience. Against any bladed weapon or firearm up to a high-powered rifle, he was now safe but it still worried him that there were other ways. A cloth soaked in chloroform, a spray of some neurotoxin up his nose, even an airtight plastic bag fastened over his head... these would finish him off quickly enough.

"Well, I hope you don't expect any begging," he growled. "Or any hopeless efforts to bribe you. I know better than that."

"Oh shut up," that lilting alto voice replied, but there was an unsteady catch in it. "You've already said too much."

Was she trying not to sob? The hard-hearted Ruby Kahn? It seemed impossible. He heard her come up close behind him, but he could not turn his head far enough to see. "You were right, Stir-Fry," she went on. "Brancatelli was planning to double-cross me. He had all that beautiful money already packed up and his car was warming up by the front door."

"Under the circumstances," he muttered, "I suppose I shouldn't bother to object. But honestly, the nickname 'Stir-Fry' is just wrong on so many levels..."

"Will you shut UP!" she gasped and this time the stress in her voice was overwhelming. "You were right. I couldn't trust him. I broke a heart that's loving and true to run off with Brancatelli and all the time I was being set up. There was no hope that my Lonnie would ever take me back. Even if he could forgive me, I can't forgive myself."

A slender hand reached around with a single key and clumsily unlocked the handcuff on Sheng's right wrist. There was fresh wet blood on Ruby's hand and she dropped the key, which landed precariously on Sheng's knee but did not quite slide off.

"It's all too late," she said. He heard her voice fade and heard the rustle as she slid to the floor behind him. Stretching his free hand, Sheng barely snagged the tiny key and managed to unlock his other cuff. He bent forward and found the key worked on his ankle restraints as well. "Ruby," he said as he freed himself, "How bad are you hurt?"

"Bad as I deserve," she whispered. In another second, Sheng Mo-Yuan was out of the chair and swinging around to kneel over her. The front of the canary-yellow blouse was soaked with red arterial blood. He lifted her head gently, shocked at how pale it was and how the skin was damp with cold sweat. "Where's your phone?" he asked. "I'll get an ambulance here."

"What, to cart away the bodies? Yes, I stabbed Brancatelli, you should have seen the look of surprise on his stupid face. But my mistake.. was not getting out of the way afterwards. He had that damn LCP in his pocket and he tagged me with one shot." Ruby Kahn slumped in Sheng's arms. "I can't feel my legs, Stir-Fry. That's a bad sign."

"If it helps, you did the right thing," Sheng said but he realized she couldn't hear him any more. Slowly, he disengaged himself and stood up in the darkness. "Maybe somehow, somewhere, that will go in your favor," he finished to himself.

8/19/2018

"Let's Go Do Some Shape-Shifting"

6/14/2013

I.

Sheng Mo-Yuan walked in on the squirrel robbing his office at seven in the morning. He had been out all night on a bodyguard assignment that had seen no action at all. At six-thirty, his client had gotten in a van with a Federal Marshall to be taken to a supposedly safe location. Sheng's involvement with the client ended at that point, and since the check had already cleared, the case was history to him. At two minutes to seven, he entered the Hartwicke Building and trudged up the creaky wooden stairs to the third floor where his office was waiting.

Unbuttoning the top of his pale blue dress shirt and loosening the knot of his black knitted silk tie, Sheng dug for his keys. The frosted glass panel of his door had the Chinese symbols 'Chuan Lo Tsing' painted on it. This could be translated as "Hard Worker Fist" or "Fist For Hire." Below that was ARGENT INVESTIGATIONS, then the office hours 12 MIDNIGHT-9 AM. Early on in his practice, he had realized that nearly all his cases took place at night and that most of his clients were urgently trying to reach him late at night as well. He had started sleeping during the day to keep overnight office hours and cases had been plentiful ever since. It suited him fine. Sheng unlocked the door, stepped in and froze where he was as he saw the animal on his desk.

There was nothing unusual about the animal physically. It seemed to be a common Eastern Gray Squirrel, about ten inches long with the bushy tail curled up behind its back. But it was bent down over his daybook, studying the entries and as he watched, it turned a page with its paw.

"What the HELL...?" he began, startling the little beast. The squirrel gave a violent start, almost falling off the desk, then sprinted across the office and dove headlong out the open window. Squirrels can hit twelve miles an hour instantly, and even if Sheng had switched his Argent powers to speed, he wasn't sure he would have been able to catch it. In a haze of puzzlement, the Chujiran closed the door behind him and carefully draped his suit jacket over the back of his chair.

At five feet five and in trim athletic condition, Argent always dressed well. Tailored clothes were a weakness of his. He sat down at his desk, unlaced his polished black shoes and removed them gratefully. It had been a long night spent on his feet. Still wondering if he had misunderstood what he had just seen, he examined his desk. The wide center drawer was open and the daybook listing his appointments, as well as names of new clients and future court appointments, sat open to the previous day's entries. He was absolutely certain that he had placed the ledger in the drawer and closed the drawer before leaving the previous night. He was meticulous when it came to details like that.

Turning on the bright desk lamp, Sheng peered closely at the ledger but saw no damage, no marks on it of any kind. He closed the book and put it away, still mulling over the incident. Over his long years in the Midnight War, he had seen so many bizarre phenomena that he regarded very little as being absolutely impossible. Had the squirrel been trained to do that? Why? Could you even train squirrels? Had there maybe been a tiny camera tied to a collar that he had not spotted in the few seconds the squirrel had been in sight?

...Was the squirrel intelligent?!

Sheng remembered the window and went to examine it. He distinctly remembered leaving it open the barest crack the night before because it had been such an oppressive muggy day. Now, the window was up at least four inches. Who had done that? He found himself locking for tiny claw marks, finding none and shaking his head at the whole situation. Maybe he should put out some traps with walnuts in them? Sheng closed the window, turned the lock and walked over to turn on the AC unit in the office's other window. Today was supposed to be in the low 90s with high humidity.

After another ten minutes of trying to figure things out, Sheng decided to let it go. Maybe his subconscious mind would decipher the meaning of it all while he slept. He locked the office door and stripped down. Under the neat business suit, he was wearing what looked like a tight garment of wet silk that left only his head, hands and feet exposed. This was the Trom armor that dispersed impact over its entire surface. Sheng peeled it off and took it into the bathroom with him after hanging up his slacks neatly in the closet. The bathroom was so small the toilet nearly touched the shower cabinet, from which he could lean out to turn the taps in the sink. But it was all he needed.

Taking a steaming hot shower and scrubbing himself vigorously with a loofah, Argent wistfully remembered the village in Chujir where he had grown up. Like many of the adjacent realms, electricity did not work in Chujir. Even simple flashlights brought from the world would not function there. He had been so used to an outhouse shack with a board seat that had a hole cut in it, and to bathing once a week because it meant heating water on a wood fire. Sheng toweled dry and rubbed his coarse black hair before emerging naked into his office. He would not need to shave today, he did not have much in the way of whiskers in any case.

Pulling white cotton socks, plaid boxers and a brown T-shirt from a cabinet, Sheng pulled them on and went over to settle down on the couch. His legal residence was the KDF building on East 38th Street where he had rooms but he could be found here in his office more often than not. Sheng arranged some pillows, unfolded a thin flannel sheet from one end of the couch and stretched out contentedly. A few hours sleep usually would clear up most puzzles. Argent yawned, rolled over on his side to face inward on the couch and drifted off.

On the ledge outside, the squirrel watched him through the window.

( the rest of the story )

"The Four Adaptites"

7/29-7/30/2013

I.

At ten after five, Bane decided it had been a wasted day. More and more, he felt like only taking cases by appointment and spending more time traveling. The days of the big masterminds like John Grim or Wu Lung seemed to be over, and the new KDF had been doing fine handling what Midnight War events did come up. The only hint of any action that day had been a man coming in to ask if he could have his daughter trailed to see where she was buying drugs and Bane had explained that, sorry, the Dire Wolf Agency was mostly concerned with gruesome murders.

Standing up and stretching, he decided he would pick a city he had never been to before and spend a few days looking around. Kenneth Dred had left him millions in his will, and Bane had personally lived simply all his life. Now that he was in his late fifties, maybe it was time to retire. Or semi-retire. As he thought that, the office phone rang on his desk and he smiled slightly. He recognized the number on the little screen. "Hello, Bleak," he said.

"Listen," came the familiar sour voice. "Get out of there. You don't have any time."

"What? Why?"

"The cops are on their way to arrest you. I was tipped that you shot a little kid behind Bryant Park a few minutes ago. Run now. I'll explain later."

"Got it," Bane said and hung up. ( the rest of the story )

"Kamikaze Bugs"

1/22/2013

I.

At one-thirty in the morning, Sheng sat at his desk and watched Uncle Pao go through his Tai Chi form. The old man moved smoothly around the center of the office in white-stockinged feet, having left his shoes by his own smaller desk off to the side. Only five foot three and not much over a hundred pounds, Pao slowly went through the pushing and swiveling motions without any apparent stiffness or strain. He had started Tai Chi as a teenager and seldom missed going through the form at least once a day. At seventy-five, he still walked without a cane and went up and down stairs with confidence. His last annual physical had produced approval from his doctor.

Careful not to make any sudden motion or noise that might be distracting, Sheng Mo-Yuan smiled at the familiar sight. Uncle Pao was not really his uncle of course; coming from the adjacent realm of Chujir, Sheng had no relatives in this real world. But the coincidence of their last names had been enough for Pao to insist on attaching himself to Sheng and working in the FIST FOR HIRE office. To be honest, Sheng had quickly become fond of the cantankerous old man and he realized he himself had been lonely for some sort of family here. His KDF teammates were great, he valued their friendship, but Uncle Pao was culturally and tempramentally so much like the people of Chujir...

Their detective agency kept the unusual hours of 12 AM to 9 AM because Sheng had found that this was when his clients were most likely to be in desperate need of help. The Midnight War was well named. That hour was when creatures of the night stalked the dingy alleys and poorly lit back streets of lower Manhattan as they had menaced Humans since the beginning of time.

As Pao went over to sit down at his own desk and started lacing on his shoes again, he glanced over at Sheng. >"You see,"< he said in Cantonese, >"If Americans only had the discipline of Tai Chi Chuan, they would not all carry bellies that seem ready to give birth to twins."<

"I can't argue with that," Sheng replied. "I only hope I am as flexible as you when I reach your age, uncle. You move like a teenager."

Taking up his copy of the Chinese-language newspaper THE WORLD off his desk, Pao rustled its pages more noisily than seemed necessary. He tried not to show it, but the compliment pleased him immensely. "Ehh. Last night saw no customers for your agency, and tonight seems unfortunately to be as quiet. This does not put money in your savings account."

"Something always turns up..." Sheng began but paused. Two floors below, the street door of the Hartwicke Building had slammed and he heard rapid footsteps coming up the stairs. "Hah! What did I tell you?"

"No divorce cases, please," Uncle Pao told him sternly. "Too much crying and bad language."

"What?! When have I ever taken a divorce case?" Sheng stood and straightened the jacket of his tan suit, then adjusted the dark brown tie. He liked dressing well and had his suits tailored to fit perfectly. Although he didn't mention it to anyone, lately Sheng had been buying dress shoes a size larger than what he normally wore and putting two-inch heel lifts inside them. At five feet five, he had been of average height back in Chujir but here in New York City he too often felt at a psychological disadvantage dealing with six-footers.

Through the open office door, a slender woman about twenty poked her head in as if expecting to be yelled at. She said, "Excuse me? Sorry for coming here so late, but you ARE Mr Argent? This is the Argent Detective Agency?"

"Please, come right in," Sheng said, motioning for her to enter. "Actually, my name is Sheng Mo-Yuan and this is my Uncle Pao. These are the hours we keep, so you're welcome to come in. Can we help you?"

"Oh I do hope so." She spun back around to stare at the hallway behind her, the long curly black hair swinging in her wake. Her dark eyes fixed on Sheng like magnets. "I hope I have not been followed. Mr Sheng? My name is Demure. Demure McLaughlin. I've read about you in the papers, you and your Fist For Hire business. There's gossip you can turn bulletproof or strong enough to flip a car over. You're supposed to be, well, superhuman."

"Nothing so grand," Sheng dismissed the thought. "We all have our gifts, I've been lucky."

>"Oh, another pretty young girl for a client,"< scoffed Uncle Pao. >"Be sure the window is closed so your brains don't fly out the window."<

"Yes. Thank you, uncle," Sheng said absently. He came over to touch the back of a plain wooden chair in front of his desk and held it for the girl. On her way, Demure tripped apparently over her own feet and lost her balance. Luckily, Sheng was right there, so she clutched at his lower arms and caught herself in time with a mumbled apology. When their visitor had seated herself, the Chujiran detective returned to his own swivel chair and said, "So. What is urgent enough that you come out so late at night to see us?"

"It's about the death of the man I was working for," Demure McLaughlin replied with a noticeable tremor in her voice. "Dr Wendell Petruski of Columbia University. It's horrible. Have you heard about it?"

"No, I don't think there was anything in the news about it. Nothing that I saw anyway. What makes his death so horrible?"

"That big discolored dent in his forehead. The black foam from his mouth. No one has a clue about how he died!"

( the rest of the story )

"Killers of the Sargasso"

4/19/2013

I.

Standing at the stern of the ninety-foot yacht LOLA DEAR, Demrak Jin watched the cutter sail away into the distance. It was good to be out at sea again, with no land in sight. For the first time since she had left her own realm, she felt at ease. The young Geldydra had one foot up on a ledge as she gazed out at the horizon. How tempting it would be to simply dive overboard, to swim down until the surface was just a dim lighter area far overhead, to hunt some fish and to wander this world's waters. Ah, but she had sworn allegiance to her captain, and duty ruled her life.

Standing at the wheel of the eighty-foot craft, Mandate agent Don Crispino glanced over his shoulder to watch her. Jin was not pretty, with a pug nose in a roundish face, strange cloudy blue eyes and a head of thick bristly white hair. In fact, she made him a little uneasy. Demrak Jin was only a few inches over five feet tall, slim and even boyish in build. He was a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, and he had both combat training and a 9mm in a shoulder holster. Yet, a few times, he had caught her looking at him as if deciding where to cut him first. The odd machete she wore strapped to her back seemed to have a blade made of sharp bone. Her skintight outfit was made of a rough dark material that he swore looked like sharkhide. All in all, she gave him a serious case of the willies. If someone had told him he would be spooked by a petite twenty-year-old blonde, he would have laughed but he wasn't laughing now.

Turning, Demrak Jin walked along the polished mahogany deck toward the cabin, past the buffet and open bar and tanning couch. Luxury was wasted on her. She came up behind Carpino and said, "Your agency's ship is out of sight. They towed us this far and now they flee home."

The Mandate agent replied, "They have their orders. This craft could not get this far out on its own. Say, isn't your partner about due to wake up?"

"My captain was awake for twenty-four hours on another mission. He said he would need four hours sleep below." Demark Jin studied the cold grey North Atlantic. "I was told by my previous master that the Sargasso Sea was but a legend."

"Your previous master...? Never mind." Carpino opened the throttle a little more. "Yeah, there is an area of dense tangled seaweed but it's not much like the legends say. The Sargasso of the old stories was a graveyard of hundreds of ships that got caught in the weed and never escaped. Sailors have a lot of wild tales."

"And yet," said the strange blonde girl, "here we are."

"We are here," explained Don Carpino patiently, "because small craft keep disappearing here. It's not like an urban legend that doesn't stand up to examination. Over the past six years, eleven boats have sailed into this area in calm weather and never been heard of from again."

"The sea has many mysteries. What do you think has happened here?"

"Me? I have no idea. My chief just ordered me to pilot you and your partner below decks out here. Apparently, your pal has quite the reputation for handling the weird and the so-called supernatural."

Demrak Jin was staring off the port side. "Something... I sense something happening. Quite close."

A red fog was gathering over the sea. It grew thicker and brighter, a mist the color of fresh blood. The fog boiled and churned, and drew closer. Carpino worked the controls to take evasive action, but the red fog engulfed them in an instant. When it cleared, they both were stunned to find themselves somewhere different. Under an overcast misty sky, clumps and tangles of dark red weed stretched in all directions. It did not look so much like the ocean as it did a prairie.

"The Sargasso Sea...?" said Carpino in a small voice.

But Demark Jin had spotted the pirates. A dozen men climbed over the rail from two rowboats on either side. They wore a bizarre motley of mismatched clothing, and carried a variety of weapons... everything from cavalry sabres to assegai stabbing spears. They were bearded and scarred and had long greasy hair tied up with bandanas. Without exception, they watched the two on the yacht the way cats watch mice.

"Ah," said the oldest pirate, with a drooping grey mustache and a nose with a deep gash across its bridge. "The red fog has brought us a prize this time. This boat looks to have some useful items. Mind the champagne bottles there, Will. The man seems like he can do some work before he dies. And the girl, well, we can raffle her off each night. Methinks Filthy will be pleased."

Demark Jin had her hand on the hit of her bone-bladed sword, and Carpino edged his own hand toward his concealed holster. But at that instant, a man in black rushed like lightning up from below decks and dove headlong into the pirates.

II.

With a silver dagger in each hand, the Dire Wolf sliced away in tight precise patterns, cutting open stomachs and slashing throats and plunging deep in chests. He was moving so fast that it seemed the pirates were meekly allowing him to cut them down when actually they were fighting for the lives. One managed to score at the man in black's exposed back with a cutlass but the weapon only rebounded as it could not pierce the tough material. In less than a minute, all the pirates were dead and blood was splattered in all directions. Jeremy Bane lowered his daggers suspiciously, as if he thought there might be one or two more hidden on the deck somehow. Then he knelt and carefully cleaned the silver blades on a relatively clean turban before sheathing them.

"God. DAMN," said Carpino. "I thought I'd seen skilled fighters before..."

Bane turned toward the man. He was wearing all black.. boots, pants and a waist-length field jacket, with a visored helmet on his head. Now he raised that visor to reveal pale grey eyes in a narrow feral face. "I came on deck just to hear them announce their plans. Agent Carpino, we have to get rid of these bodies. There's a clear patch of water just ahead of this boat. Help Jin and me." Bane began tying the corpses together with their own belts and baldrics and scarfs. Demrak Jin and Carpino helped.

"Won't the bodies float?" Carpino asked.

"Not if their lungs fill up when they hit the water," Bane said casually. As the Mandate agent watched, the Dire Wolf and the young Gelydra picked up swords and started piercing the bodies on both sides of the chest, then began pitching them overboard. It was a gruesome process and the matter-of-fact way they went about it just made things worse in Carpino's opinion. Finally every pirate had been jettisoned. Bane went below and came up with an armful of towels. "Now to scrub. Come on, Carpino, pitch in." Dipping the towels over the side in the salt water, the three of them got up every bit of blood. It took quite some time before Bane was satisfied.

Finally, the towels were tied to a couple of cutlasses Bane had put aside for the purpose and tossed in the clear area. Only then did the Dire Wolf take in his surroundings. "The real Sargasso...." he said at last. "The source of the legends."

"You don't seem that surprised," Carpino said.

"I had my suspicions, that's all," Bane said. "Was there a red fog?"

"Yeah, that's right. It moved toward us and covered this boat, and when it lifted, here we were."

"I've seen that red fog before. It's a snare sent to draw people into another realm." Bane lifted the lid of an ice chest and took out a bottle of club soda. He unscrewed the top and took a swallow. "There is a warlock involved in this, maybe the leader and maybe not."
Demrak Jin was leaning over the side of the LOLA DEAR. "Captain, look at these rowboats. Clever."

Bane and Carpino looked down and saw the front of the rowboats had been fitted with rotating blades, wide and sharp as machetes. Poles were tied to the bench. As some of the pirates pushed the rowboat along with the poles, two sat up front and turned cranks that made the blades rotate, cutting through the tough red seaweed.

"Ingenious," Bane admitted. "But still a lot of hard work. It must take them forever to get anywhere. We'll take the bigger boat to go exploring."

"Exploring? What? What we should be doing is getting out of this weed and back on the open sea," Carpino sputtered. "There may be more of those cutthroats out there right now."

"Oh, I'm sure there are hundreds of them. They are why we came here. My plan is to find the leader of the Sargasso pirates and eliminate him and whatever sorcerer is creating the red fog. We'll free any captives we can find and end this threat."

Agent Carpino was staring. "You've got confidence, I'll say that for you. I intend to call for a rescue chopper on the radio and have my agency come back with a full strength strike force. That's the logical approach."

Bane had the faintest of smiles on his face, barely noticeable. "Good luck. You don't realize it yet, but we are no longer in the world you know. We are in an adjacent realm, and we can't just sail out back to the Atlantic."

"What? Are you telling me we've crossed over into the Twilight Zone or something?"

"Yep. Jin, let's pack some supplies. Food and fresh water for us. That rowboat held six men so we can take plenty. Bring the wine and champagne as well, we prepared that stuff specially."

The young Gelydra got a canvas sack and started putting food from the cooler in it. "I can drink salt water safely, captain. I am a sea creature, after all."

Bane went below and came up with a water-tight clear bag holding clothing and a blanket. "You can stay here if you want, agent. Someone should guard this boat for when we want to leave. I notice the AR-15 beneath that tarp, so I imagine you brought lots of ammo."

"Yes," Carpino said. "If you're positive you want to go wandering in this mess."

"It's why we came here," Bane said. He leaped lightly down in the rowboat and started turning the cranks, studying how the rotating blades worked. Climbing down behind him, Demrak Jin grabbed a pole and shoved the rowboat forward as the Dire Wolf began cutting through the tough seaweed that surrounded them.

"We're not going to set any speed records," Bane grumbled. "See you later, agent."

II.

Hours passed as they laboriously cut their way through the weed. Occasionally a fish splashed or a crab could be seen scuttling over the dense growth. Overhead, the sky remain a bleak overcast haze with no sign of the sun. Finally, Bane called for a break and moved his aching shoulders in circles. "If I had planned this expedition, I would have brought a gas-powered chainsaw," he said. "Are you sorry you came along, Jin?"

"Not at all. Your friends of the KDF have given me a clean bed in which to sleep and good food whenever I want. After slaying Dr Vitarius, I thought my life was over. I will go with you on any missions you ask of me."

"Good to know. This particular case does seem best suited for you. You ARE a water-breathing Gelydra more at home under the sea than in Manhattan, so I asked you to help out..."

"Captain, another boat is approaching," Demrak Jin broke in. "It's coming from that open area we are headed toward."

As she spoke, one of the rowboats came gliding through a corridor in the red seaweed that had been obviously prepared beforehand. There were four of the pirates in this boat, two of them with black skin and wearing bright silk garments. One in the front lifted a long slim spear with a hooked barb. "Ahoy there! Whoever you may be, you are now under the command of Filthy McSwine and must answer to his laws!"

"So you say," answered Bane. "I didn't vote for him."

"You don't vote for King of the Sargasso!" roared the black pirate. "You will come with us, and Filthy will decide your fate."

The Dire Wolf said over to his shoulder to Jin, "Time to follow our plan. We could spend days hacking through this weed and not find what we're looking for." She agreed and he turned back to the pirates. "Very well. Take us to your leader."

The rowboat slid closer and the lead pirate threw them a line, which Bane tied to a ring in his own craft. With some tugging and some more rotating of the cutting blades, Bane's boat came loose and it was quicker going. The pirates pushed against the surrounding red seaweed with poles, but one pulled up a paddle and added its effect. The clear pathway through the weed was wide enough for one rowboat at a time.

"How do you guys keep these pathways through the seaweed clear?" Bane called.

"You'll find out soon enough," one pirate laughed. Another one explained, "The new prisoners spend each day hacking through the weed. That's the first year. Then they are allowed to join a crew, if they prove doughty enough."

"Not much to look forward to. Where are you fellows from?"

"I was born on the SOUTHERN CROSS," said one and a black pirate answered, "And I, aboard the MINNESOTA, a fine ship."
"Wait, you were all born in this sea? None of you came from the world outside?"

"Of course! We are pirates to the tenth generation, born of pirates and reared by the Code of the Brotherhood. Outsiders are only fit to be servants."

One of the older-looking pirates, who had grey in his scraggly beard, added, "Well, there is Yellow Tom. He fought his way up into a crew. The same for Hooknose Pete. But such are rare."

By now, they were passing ships which were hopelessly entangled in the tough red weed. One looked to be a New England clipper from the early 19th Century and a few pirates lined up on its deck to watch them pass. More derelicts appeared, closer together as they passed. A rusty tramp steamer with its prow tilted, a Viking longboat, a sleek schooner. Each seemed to have its own two of three pirates. No women were to be seen, only bearded men bristling with weapons.

"Some of these ships have been here for centuries," Bane observed.

"Since the world began," said a pirate. "There are them what says a whirlpool is at the center of the Sargasso and for every new ship what is brought here, an older one goes to the bottom where Davy Jones welcomes it."

They were approaching a caravel, a classic 17th Century ship with its mast still bearing tattered sails and a black Jolly Roger flying from the forecastle. Gold letters near the stern read NEMESIS. Dozens of armed men watched their approach. Standing on the forecastle, arms folded, was a giant of a man. Bane estimated he stood six foot seven and would weigh three hundred pounds, little of it fat. His garments, breeches and stockings and red silk shirt, were in better condition than those of his men. But his beard and long greasy hair were tied carelessly with ribbons. At the sash around his ample gut was sheathed a curved Middle Eastern scimitar. As the two boats approached, this giant stepped forward and the crowd scrambled to get out of his way.

"You need not ask permission to come aboard," he roared down at them. "Welcome to the service of Filthy McSwine, that be me. Each of you will serve in your own way. Lower a ladder, my boys." A rope ladder was immediately flung over the side and Bane snagged it. The quickness with which both he and Jin went up that ladder seemed to surprise everyone. The pirates in the other rowboat took a few minutes to secure their craft to rings set in the side of the NEMESIS both scrambling up the ladder themselves.

On the deck, Bane and Jin were surrounded by forty men, although no one had touched them as yet. No one had even patted them down. The .38 Bane wore holstered behind his left hip was concealed the field jacket. The pirates seemed to be waiting for a word from their huge leader. Filthy McSwine studied Bane the way he might study a horse he was about to buy.

"You are no sailor," he said at last. "You are a fighting man. I know the look. How many men have you killed?"

"I did not keep count," Bane said. "They call me the Dire Wolf."

"Seems to me you will be poor labor material," said the pirate chief. He scratched the back of his neck with long nails. "I expect naught but trouble from you. Ah, but the lass there. We will hold a raffle each night for her company in the Cabin of Whispers. In time, I expect she will bear many young'uns to fill our ranks."

Demrak Jin growled deep in her chest and went into a crouch. Bane put a hand on her shoulder and told Filthy, "This is no common woman. Do you not know a Selkie when you see one?"

Some of the pirates drew back at that word. Their giant chief peered at Jin's bristling hair and strange eyes. "Aye, she does have an uncanny look to her. Still, I daresay she has woman parts where they should be..."

"Time to hit the water, Jin," said Bane. In a flash, the young Gelydra wheeled and took three running steps to vault over the side of the NEMESIS. She hit squarely on the clump of thick red weed. The pirates expected her to become hopelessly entangled in the mesh but somehow she slid cleanly through it and was gone beneath the surface. Every one on deck watched, waiting for her to surface.

"No maid can hold her breath that long," Filthy said at last. "Tis a shame. I would have claimed the first night for myself as is my privilege. Our last woman died over a week ago."

"Look!" cried a pirate.

Jin's white-haired head broke the surface right next to the NEMESIS. She threw Bane a salute and dove again.

"Some of you fetch her! Jacob! Yellow Tom! Take a few others and get in those boats and bring her back." As his crew hurried to obey, Filthy turned to the calmly waiting Bane. "And you...! I have no use for you, Dire Wolf."

"Do you follow the Code of the Brotherhood?" asked Bane in a loud clear voice.

"Aye, of course, but what be that to the likes of you, as-"

"Then I challenge you to single combat for mastery of your crew! If you still are man enough to defend your title."

"Man enough? Me? Why, you rot-headed simpleton. I am twice your size. I offer you choice of weapons, that's how confident I am!"

"I do not need weapons," Bane said as he stepped to the center of the deck and stood with arms lowered.

III.
Filthy McSwine drew his scimitar. "You make your death all the quicker," he said as he lunged forward. Despite his size, the pirate chief was quick on his feet. The blade whistled as it swung in a backhanded arc intended to lop off the challenger's head but Bane stepped back and plunged in after the edge had hissed past. He blasted a left cross-backfist combination that rocked Filthy's head from side to side. The giant pirate swung his weapon up behind him to bring it down, but while that blade was still raised, Bane moved in close and threw twelve body punches in just over a second, alternating left-right hooks to the ribs that dealt tremendous punishment. Filthy swayed, the scimitar loosened in his grip and Bane yanked it away to toss it aside.

"Do you yield?" the Dire Wolf asked.

A furious roar was his answer. Filthy McSwine rushed directly into a high side kick that picked him up off his feet and sent him crashing full length on his back. As he struggled to a sitting position, Bane knelt and cracked a backfist that twisted the man's face as far to the side as it could go without the neck breaking. The pirate slumped senseless to the grimy deck.

Bane stood up, not even breathing hard, and swung to face the crew. "All right! I know at least one of you wants to try his luck. Now is your chance. Let's go."

One of the pirates stepped forward, a blond man with his front teeth missing. He was barefoot and he swung a vicious length of hawser with a rope handle. That thick flexible metal cable would break bone wherever it struck. "I always felt Filthy had lost his edge. I aimed to challenge him meself."

The Dire Wolf raised a hand palm upward and wiggled his fingers in a 'come on' gesture. The pirate twirled his length of cable and rushed forward, as Bane spun on one heel to blast a reverse crescent kick squarely to the side of the man's face. That pirate did a sloppy cartwheel and almost went overboard.

"I think I've made my point," Bane announced. "You men have a new captain today. The Dire Wolf!"

Cries of "Dire Wolf!" echoed. Some of the men went to loot the stunned Filthy, but Bane ordered, "Leave him be. I have plans for him. First, we celebrate. There is wine and champagne in that boat I arrived in, as well as fresh meat and fruit. Distribute it fairly. It is only the beginning of the good times to come."

As some of the pirates started down the rope ladder, Bane found an older man with grizzled sideburns and wire-rimmed eyeglasses. He leaned on a staff for support. "I take it you're the first mate," he said to the man.

"Aye, true enough. They call me Smedes, and I reckon I can be of use to you."

Bane watched the pirates squabbling over the wine and champagne, and was suprised to see they were just as eager to get at the bananas, apples and pears. But fruit was a rare treat here, he realized. "Smedes, my first priority is to establish control over the red fog. Who summons it?"

"Why, that would be Impratellus, the mage. He bides in his own little raft over there. See. That's his private domain."

Following Smede's pointing finger, Bane saw a raft thirty feet across, made of beams and timbers lashed together. Tied to its center was a framework holding a tarp with a flap opening. Strange cabalistic symbols had been scrawled on the tarp with pitch, none of which Bane recognized.

"Very well," the Dire Wolf said. "Send a few men to bring this Impratellus here. I want to speak with him."

"Oh, captain, the magician does not leave his tent. We must go see him."

Bane's voice had a sudden edge to it. "You have your orders. If the magician does not wish to obey, we shall see how long he can tread water. Go send three men to fetch him, now."

IV.

As he watched from the deck, the crew brought up kegs of rum from below and tapped them. The cases of wine and champagne from Bane's boat had long been guzzled, the fresh meat and fruit were devoured with glee. The singing and dancing were vigorous if not pleasing, as many of the lyrics involved torture and rape.

Filthy McSwine groaned and moved his arms as if trying to get up. Bane quietly knelt, took a syringe from a kit inside his field jacket and injected the huge man in the back of the hand. "Another couple of hours for you," he said. As he rose, he saw three pirates escort a sullen old man up the rope ladder. This must be Impratellus. The magician looked the part, with a bald crown and a ring of white hair around his ears and the lower back of his head. In a wrinkled, severe face a beaklike nose stood out prominently. He wore loose white robes gathered at the waist, and lots of jewelry including three rings on each hand.

"This will not bode well for thee," Impratellus announced. "An enchanter is not to be summoned without gifts."

"Oh, relax a little," answered Bane. He reached behind him and poured a glass of red wine from a bottle he had been guarding. At the sound, Impratellus straightened and could not conceal his interest. "This is fairly expensive stuff," Bane said as he held out the glass. "But with me as captain, the looting is going to be of a higher quality."

Impratellus took a tentative sip, then a good-sized swallow. "By the Dread One, that has a fine bouquet. I had never thought to taste a true Kirschner again."

"Indulge," said Bane, "I have three bottles put aside here. Smedes, you and the three who went to fetch the magician had better see if there's any wine left on deck. No reason for you to miss out."

It was hard to judge time in that hazy light, and the sky had not gotten any darker or brighter. This realm seemed to exist in a sort of perpetual twilight. As Bane stood and chatted with Impratellus, the pirates started lying down one by one. Sleepiness came over them quickly and they wearily found corners to curl up in or nodded off sitting up back to back.
"They are not used to good wine," Bane observed.

"True," said the sorceror. "I myself feel like a nap would do me good." He almost dropped the wine glass but Bane took it from him.

"Why not grab forty winks?" asked the Dire Wolf. "But first, I want to know where the prisoners are held."

"Prisoners? From the outside world? There are but three left. Filthy McSwine works them too hard, he could get more labor from them if he did not whip them so freely. They are in irons beneath our feet."

"Any women among them?"

"No, sad to say. He and the men vent their lust so freely that female prisoners do not live long either. The last girl we had bled to death a week ago. My head spins- I feel strange." The sorceror dropped limply and Bane let him fall.

The Dire Wolf surveyed the scene and counted thirty-six sleeping pirates, one doped captain and a snoring enchanter. He stared at them sourly. His hope had been to rescue more of the outsiders taken by the killers. According to the maritime records, more than fifty people had been on the ships that disappeared into the red fog in the past few years. He exhaled sharply and almost wished he had injected poison into the food and drink he had brought here instead of the harmless anesthetic.

IV.

Clicking the visor of his helmet shut, he could see clearly as the light amplifiers cut in. Bane went below decks and down a central passage between stacks of wooden crates and barrels. From a stool, a pirate jumped to his feet where he was guarding three men in chains. A candle stub on a tin plate provided the only light. Three men in rags stirred feebly, weighed down by manacles around their wrists.

"I'm told you're our new captain," the man said. He was missing his left hand, with a leather covering over the stub. "I welcome thee, sir. My name is Lefty."

"Only three prisoners?" Bane said angrily. "What happened to them all?"

"Worked to death, I fear, sir. Filthy was too fond of the whip. We need more prisoners. The women did not survive their duties in the Cabin of Whispers, either. I fear the last one managed to open her wrists with a bit of broken glass and bled out afore she was found. Pity that, my turn was next and she was a winsome lass."

"Yeah, too bad about that." Bane had folded his arms and as he straightened them, one hand gripped a silver dagger that had been sheathed beneath his sleeves. The blade sliced cleanly through Lefty's windpipe and the man died within seconds.

The Dire Wolf glared down at the body. "I feel bad you didn't get your chance to rape a terrified prisoner." He cleaned the blade on the man's shirt and resheathed it.

The three men in chains tried to sit up. Bane lit an oil lantern that hung from the rafters, using the candle stub, and went over to them. "I've come to rescue you fellows," he said. "Are you strong enough to walk?"

"Just give us a chance," one said. "Oh my God, we had given up hope. Are you from a Navy SEAL team?"

"Something similar," Bane answered. He found a ring of heavy keys on the dead pirate and unfastened the manacles. The men were weak and had to be helped to their feet. Bane smacked open a keg of brandy and gave each of them a swallow from a tin cup on a chain.

"What a nightmare," gasped one of the men. "Pirates like this! In this day and age. They have us in the boats cutting that red weed until we drop, then they give us just enough bread and water to keep us alive."

"Well, it's over now. You men are coming with me. Up these stairs."

"I was on the schooner LIBERTY BELLE with my fiancee," said a prisoner with light brown hair. "The pirates bragged what they did to her. They need to die. We have to come back here with Marines and wipe them out, they're the scum of the Earth!"

"Easy there," Bane said as he helped them up onto the deck. "They're going to get what they deserve. That's a promise."

As they came out into the hazy half-light, the prisoners gasped at the sight of every pirate lying senseless. "What- happened to them? Are they dead?"

"Not yet," said Bane. "They drank a lot of blended anesthetic, though." He looked over the sides of the NEMESIS but did not see any of the rowboats. "Hmm." He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a long sharp whistle. A blonde head popped up from the middle of a clump of the red weed and Demrak Jin waved.

"Did you save us a boat?" Bane called down.

"Yes, captain! I shall bring it now." The Gelydra jackknifed, her butt in the air for an instant and was gone.

"How she moves through that awful weed is beyond me," Bane said. "But she IS a sea creature."

One of the prisoners gasped, "Filthy!"

Bane turned slowly to face the giant. The man must have immense recuperative powers. Filthy seemed unsteady but he was on his feet and pointing an old Smith & Wesson .357 right at the Dire Wolf.
.
"I knew...you would be trouble," mumbled the pirate captain. "You've poisoned me crew! Good thing... I have kept a few bullets for this infernal device. I should have killed you as soon as you came aboard."

"You could have tried," Bane answered. He drew and fired faster than any gunfighter of the Old West, and the slug plowed a tunnel into Filthy's chest. As the pirate swayed, the Dire Wolf aimed for a second shot but decided it wasn't necessary. The huge man dropped to his knees and then slumped face down.

"Any of you know how to use a gun?" asked Bane.

"I do, I'm from Texas," answered one man. He limped over and tugged the pistol from the dead hand, then inspected it. "This thing hasn't been cleaned in years," he said with disgust. "It's more likely to blow up in your hand than to fire."

"Never mind, then. Each of you find a sword or knife or something you're comfortable with. There are other pirates in the Sargasso besides these." Bane watched as the men picked up weapons, and stopped one who was about to drink from a wine bottle. "Hold it, unless you want a nap for a few hours. That's what put these pirates out of commission."

Demrak Jin vaulted lightly over the rail, her bone-bladed knife in one hand. "I heard a shot, captain."

"It was me taking care of Filthy," Bane said. "Are we set to go?"

"Yes. Down this ladder to the largest rowboat!" She regarded the starved men who were watching her with open mouths. "Only three?"

"I'm afraid so. These pirates have a lot to answer." He helped the weakened prisoners over the railing, with Jin below in case they slipped. Bane went over and dragged the snoring Impratellus and carried him down the ladder.

"What are you taking him for?" asked a prisoner.

"He'll have his uses," Bane said. "Let's move. Shove off with the poles and follow the path cut through the weed." Finding a single-person paddle underfoot, the Dire Wolf began to use it. They glided quickly through the murky water. Behind him, Jin sighed and he glanced over his shoulder.

"I regret there was not more combat," she explained. "The three men who came after me were no challenge. I pulled them into the water and cut their throats so I could bring this boat back. A ship full of enemies and I slew only three."

"We're not home safe yet," Bane said. "What about the sabotage?"

"As you instructed," she replied. "Using an iron bar I found in the boat, I pried loose a dozen boards on both sides of the ship. I could feel the water rush in. The NEMESIS will tilt soon and go under."

The Dire Wolf looked back and wasn't sure if the ship was in fact listing yet. "The cold water should wake up some of them. If they can swim away, maybe they can make it to some of the other ships. But I can't feel too sorry for them after what they've bragged about doing."

"Drowning is too good for them!" yelled a former prisoner. "My poor Caitlyn. Those bastards deserve to suffer."

They had covered distance quickly, and Bane spotted the white yacht still sitting at the edge of the miles-long surface of red weed. "Carpino!" he yelled. "Hey, agent Carpino!"

The Mandate agent appeared on deck, cradling at AR-15 in his hands. "Good God, you made it! It feels like days." He put the weapon down and helped everyone on board. "I get nothing but static on the radio and my satellite phone doesn't work either."

Bane threw the sleeping magician in a corner with no attempt at gentleness. He told the prisoners, "Open that ice chest over there. There's wrapped sandwiches, soda and beer. Take it slowly, your stomachs have shrunken." The Dire Wolf went to where Carpino stood watching."Only three prisoners to rescue, I'm afraid."

"Three out of almost fifty," Carpino said sadly. "If we had come here sooner... but my bosses had to approve the mission and they voted to recruit you."

"I know, I know. We do what we can with what we have. Jin! Any sign of pursuit?"

"Not yet, captain." The young Gelydra was standing by the stern, searching intently. "I will let you know."

"Good," Bane said. He checked on the three freed men and saw they were sipping soda and eating the sandwiches slowly. Then he went to crouch over Impratellus. Bane removed all the jewelry, the rings and the amulet and the armband, and took them over to one side. He studied them for a few minutes. While he did not know any gralic magick himself, not having the slightest aptitude for it, thirty years in the Midnight War had given him a working knowledge of how to deal with it. He decided the amulet was the source of the red fog, based on what he had read in Kenneth Dred's journals.

The Dire Wolf slung the amulet over one shoulder and knelt beside the drugged sorceror. From an inside pocket of his jacket, he took out a metal case holding three small syringes labelled REVIVE. This was the antidote to the anesthetic that he had put in the food and wine the pirates had consumed. It wasn't gentle on the system. Bane injected the magician high on the forearm, rubbed the skin and put the empty syringe away carefully. In a few minutes, Impratellus twitched and then convulsed. Bane held him down. The sorceror gasped and struggled and finally his eyes opened. It was a few minutes before he could catch his breath.\

"Time to wake up," the Dire Wolf said. "Here's the situation. By now, the NEMESIS is at the bottom of the Sargasso, taking its crew with it. You're our prisoner. I spared you because you're needed to create the red fog to take us home."

"What? Are you telling the truth? You killed everyone on the NEMESIS? You murderer!"

"Coming from you, that's funny. They were pirates born to pirates for generations. They killed and tortured, enslaved and raped as a way of life." Bane leaned closer, fixing those grey eyes coldly on the sorceror. "Now, you can still keep your own life. You can bring us home and I will release you. How you make a living is not my concern, but you do have some gralic abilities and you'll find a way."

"No! No! There are other pirates on smaller ships. I will find sanctuary with them." Impratellus struggled but was too weak to rise.

Bane said, "I calculate it's five miles back to the nearest pirate ship. You don't look like you could swim one mile. Should we throw you overboard and find out?"

Impratellus seemed to deflate and become a tired old man, head sagging. "Very well. You swear to release me unharmed?"

"As a knight of Tel Shai, I swear it." He handed the sorceror the golden amulet. "Let's get going."

Holding the amulet, Impratellus closed his eyes and concentrated. Nothing happened for a long moment, then a patch of the red fog appeared far off over the Sargasso. It drifted toward them, growing larger and more defined.

"We'll be back in the real world in a few minutes," Bane told the others. "I don't know what kind of story you three ae going to tell the authorities but the Mandate will help. Isn't that right, Carpino?"

"Huh? Oh absolutely," the agent said. "We'll cover for them. They were in fact abducted by modern-day pirates after all, and my agency will handle everything."

As the red fog swept over the LOLA DEAR and everything went scarlet for a minute, Demrak Jin asked, "What is going to happen to the surviving pirates?"

Bane said, "They can't leave the Sargasso and they can't bring in any more captives. I suppose they will get old and die off one at a time."

"They deserve worse," the blonde Gelydra said. She sighed, "I wish I could have slain a few more."

The fog dissipated, Impratellus gasped and almost passed out. They were back in the cold waters of the North Atlantic, with not a trace of the thick mass of seaweed to be seen. Bane said, "Agent Carpino, the radio and your satellite phone should be working again. You might want to contact your agency."
Carpino paused in the doorway to the cabin and looked back."I'm sorry I didn't go with you two. Sounds like I missed out on an interesting experience."

Demrak Jin snorted. Bane said, "We work with the Mandate once in a while. I'll ask next time if you can be assigned."

2/22/2014