Young Writers Society

"Have you ever fought a Khagilosi, Private?"

Helm snapped out of his trance, noticed that there was a minor pileup on the road in front of them. He cleared his throat. Meredus sat slouched in his seat, peering out of the window.

"No, sir."

"Ah. So you're a recent conscript. I'd say... A good six months out of boot camp."

"Yes, sir."

Wellmar spoke, after a brief moment of silence. "Well, that's fine. You didn't miss much."

"What are they like sir?"

Meredus glanced at Helm thoughtfully.

"Brash. Concerned more with tradition than manners. Likely to pull your head off if you speak ill of their mothers. Those sorts of fellows."

"And they're big?"

Sant Wellmar cleared his throat. "About eight feet, standing perfectly straight."

Meredus looked back at Sant Wellmar, a middle-aged man with dark features and buzzed hair, a plethora of scars decorating his face. His gray-green eyes were dull, looking upon the world with the desensitized gaze of a veteran.

"What about you, Wellmar? I'm sure you've got plenty of interesting stories."

"...I've fought plenty of Khagilosi, Sir. Don't remember most of them, except for my first."

"Oh? And how did that go for you?"

"I had to kill him unarmed."

Helm glanced at Meredus; Meredus was touching a strange device on his wrist. It looked like a wristwatch, but instead of a clock it's face was a blue disk that seemed to produce its own light. Helm looked at it for a moment, transfixed and fascinated.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Private."

Helm jerked back to reality and saw that the traffic light had turned green.

"Sorry, sir."

Meredus craned his neck back and stared at Wellmar, cocked a blonde eyebrow. "You? You're full of shit."

"I wouldn't lie to you, sir." Wellmar stared out his window, watching the passersby with a vague interest.

Meredus leaned back. "So you say. So what happened?"

Wellmar smiled. It was a smile utterly devoid of mirth or humor. "Well... It was back in 319. I was with my boys in the 107th Ground Division... We were deployed over Lincera, and gods, it was a bloodbath there."

"So I hear."

"They'd taken the city unawares sometime in the wee hours, using the lack of light from the moon to mask their approach. Before anyone could spit, there was a supercarrier up there... The Blood of Giants. It was like it was wet and drip-drying, but instead of shedding water it was dropping mechs, all different kinds. Dragoons, Faerie Dragons, you name it."

"Faerie Dragons... Are those the ones that are invisible to radar?"

"Yup. Those were the ones to drop first. They had a stranglehold on the streets for miles, and Lincera was not prepared. For every ten citizens, they had maybe one good soldier, and that soldier couldn't see anything that night except for fire on the horizon."

Helm was silent. He had been born in Lincera, though his family had evacuated a couple weeks before the battle of which Wellmar recounted. He hadn't exactly been disappointed in the prospect. Anywhere that wasn't Ascension was a slaughtering pen, and the Khagilosi the penmasters.

"Well, anyway, we were near City Hall; The fighting had been going on for a good three and a half days, and the Khagilosi were still going strong. We had been hiding in some of the broken buildings, hoping to find a way up to the Blood of Giants, hoping for some shred of luck. We would try and listen in on some of the radio chatter, but the only guy who spoke Khagilosi was stuck under a beam when the roof of the diner we were in fell on him. So we were pretty shit out of luck. Our commander had got it into his head that we were all going to take the Blood down or die in the process, but my squad leader had other ideas. When he died, we took his orders instead and tried to make for the outskirts."

"Disobeying a direct order from a superior, eh? I'm surprised your face isn't purple from the hanging."

"Some orders don't deserve to be obeyed, sir." Wellmar shook his head, a sad look in his eyes. "And we all did some things worthy of execution in the War. Fearing for our lives, that wasn't one of them."

Meredus waved it off, uncaring. "Get to the good part. How did you get in a one-on-one with a redmane?"

"Yes sir. City Hall. We were on the roof of a hotel, I was recon and my friend Jill was watching the east. We heard a sound, boom, boom, boom, and before we knew it a Goblin class was down in the street below us. You should have seen the guns on that thing. One slug from the shoulder-mounted chain-gun could turn a cow into mist. And gods, it was tall. The hotel was eight stories and the Goblin stood for at least five of 'em. I didn't have to look at Jill. I could smell the fear. Or maybe it was me."

They stopped at another red light, a throng of townsfolk migrating over the crosswalk. Helm saw a couple beast-kin among them; A bear-kin, standing three feet over the average person, clad in nothing but the black fur he was born in and a comically small canvas backpack filled with apples; and a leopard-woman with her cub, a rambunctious little cat with a red cap who tugged at her skirt. Evidently, the beast-kin did their best to bridge the cultural gap between their young and the human's, though the glaring differences would always remain. They walked on two legs and spoke any language they set their mind to, but they were still animals, if only in appearance.

"So what did you do?"

"Well, we didn't have a lot of time to react. He saw us, and before we knew it flames and drywall shot up around us and the hotel was going down. I reached for Jill but..." Wellmar closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

"I fell. Down, down, staring the metal beast directly into its eyes, or cameras, whatever the fuck they were. I was sure I was done for. But something made me reach out, and I grabbed the first thing I saw, a metal bar on the back of it's chassis. Probably what they use to get in the thing in the first place. My arm came clean out of my shoulder, but I didn't notice until later. I rode the thing tight as it bucked and whirled, throwing me around like a kid's plaything. I had one satchel charge in my bag, so I did my best to get it. As I grabbed it, my bag fell off and dropped somewhere onto the street, I never found it again."

Helm's heart was in his throat as he listened to Wellmar. Meredus seemed to have taken a morbid fascination in the tale. The light changed to green.

"I set the charge on it's camera mount and jumped off backwards, landing in the second-story window of a flower shop. I was like a pin-cushion with all the glass stuck in my arms and back. Then the explosion came, and flames shot into the windows, catching the drapes on fire. I had to smack the fire off of my pants leg. Can I get one of those, sir?"

Meredus nodded and took a cigarillo from the eagle tin, handing it to Wellmar. He struck a match and lit it for Wellmar, and Wellmar puffed on it, nodding appreciatively.

"Thank you sir. Where was I?"

"You detonated the charge on the Artillery Suit."

"Oh yeah. So... I waited a while. I didn't hear anything, except for the sound of the sparks flying off the Goblin, and the fighting all around in the city. When I came out onto the street, I noticed the cockpit was open, and nobody was in it. Next thing I knew he came up behind me and flung me into a wall, roaring something about a 'heretic.' I remember... he kicked my gun away."

Helm felt a chill run up the small of his back.

"Then... A white light covered everything. I was sure I had died. Then the sound reached us. The Blood of Giants had been taken down. Fire and metal came down out of the sky and smashed into buildings, throwing dust everywhere. He looked up, I took advantage of the situation and yanked the stun knife from my boot, and jammed it into his ankle. Then the Blood touched down and in the explosion we took to wrestling in the street."

"Then what?"

"Well, then I bashed his head in with a piece of concrete." Wellmar threw his cigarillo out the car window.

"Thank you for that exhilarating tale, Wellmar. Medrik, I'm going to have to ask you to stop the convoy."

"Sir?"

"Don't question me, kid. Just do it."

Medrik nodded and pulled the radio receiver off of its hook, punched in the number of the comm channel reserved for their unit. "Able, calling Baker, Charlie and Dog, four wheelers dead. Get out and stretch, over."

"Turn left right here."

Medrik obeyed, turning into an L-shaped alley with a huge pile of rubbish at the far corner. Steam rushed up from vents in the ground. The tall stucco buildings to either side of it were probably once flats, but now they were abandoned, disused, and sun bleached. The windows were either boarded up or broken.

They parked; The truck's thrumming quieted down to a purr, and settled.

"What are we waiting for, sir?"

"Just you wait." Meredus scanned the street with the eyes of a bird of prey, and Helm tried to follow his gaze.

As they looked on, a green R-model four-door appeared in the alley, creeping towards their truck like a cautious woodland critter. It settled down and a short, gaunt man with a receding hairline and a black cap stepped out. He shakily dabbed at his glistening brow with a handkerchief, clearly terrified.

"Right on time. Wellmar, do you remember your orders?"

"Sir."

Meredus opened his car door and stepped out, lighting up another cigarillo, and Wellmar followed him, carrying an attache briefcase.

Medrik pulled out a ten millimeter from under his seat, and checked his magazine. Sixteen rounds. He chambered it and exited the vehicle.

Meredus approached the gaunt man with an air of lackadaisy. Wellmar brushed past them and went to the stranger's car, opening up the passenger doors.

"Is that really necessary?"

"You know how it goes, Dreslim. Have to make sure nobody's hiding in there. I hope you've kept your end of the bargain."

Dreslim nodded gravely.

Meredus tipped his chin curtly at the man. "So, what happened?"

"The guys you sent to nab her got taken out."

"You're sure? You were there to witness?"

"Yeah. I was around the corner watching, like you said. A girl with silver hair... She took all three of them on. She even kicked the car over. Never seen a thing like it."

Wellmar snickered, but when he saw Meredus' grave countenance he lowered his head.

"So where are they now?"

"After it all went down I picked the both of them up and drove them to the Manor. They should still be there now."

"Good, you played your part well. So who's all there? Just two of them, excluding the wenches?"

"The Mayor, and his butler. The kid with the red hair. I never trusted him."

Meredus let out a thin cloud of smoke from his nose. "That's wise. He's wanted in over five countries, that one."

Dreslim shook his head. "I'm not surprised."

"You think you could spare us some directions to the Manor?"

Dreslim obliged, providing them with his usual route.

"Well, I thank you for your cooperation, Dreslim Sukkari. You will find your payment in the briefcase Mr. Wellmar here has left in your car, in accordance with our pact." He offered his hand to Dreslim, and tentatively, Dreslim took the hand and shook.

"How much is in there?"

"Twenty eight million leaves, just as promised."

"And my passport? I can leave this country?"

"You can go anywhere you want, Dreslim. Even to Ascension, if you so wish it."

Dreslim's face brightened, ten years seeming to melt off his cheeks. He nodded his head graciously. "Thank you. Thank you so much sir."

"Don't sweat it." They turned to leave, but Meredus turned around after a few paces. "By the way, Dreslim... Could you not open the briefcase until we leave? Just a precaution."

"Er... Sure." Dreslim stiffened. "Oh. Sir. One more thing."

"Yes?"

"This is the key to the gate. You'll need it to get on the road to the Manor."

He pressed a small platinum key into Meredus' hand. Meredus nodded and turned to walk away.

They got back in the truck and Meredus tossed his cigarillo out the window. "Put a rush job on it, Corporal."

As they pulled out of the alley, Wellmar handed Meredus a small metal cylinder with a red button on the top of it. Helm watched as Meredus pressed the button down with his palm, and an explosion rocked the car.

Helm felt heat lick his face from the open window, and in the rear view mirror he saw that the alley billowed fire and smoke.

"That briefcase didn't have money in it, did it, sir?"

"Don't be an idiot, Corporal Medrik."

***

Angela tried her best to ease the maelstrom in her chest, but found it was overwhelming her. Her thoughts kept going back to the corner of Redfish and Oak, and the thought of what could have befallen her set her heart to pounding feverishly. Her ears rang with the increased blood flow.

She looked here and there about the kitchen; The mahogany cabinets, large granite island and counter tops, beige freeze-box with chrome trim, red and orange argyle wallpaper. It seemed so alien to her, like she was in the house of a complete stranger.

What's happening to me? What's happening to us?

To distract herself, she decided to make dinner for the four of them; With tense arms she set about to cutting vegetables for the salad with a thin steel blade. She laid out the cutting board, pulled out a red onion from the yellow clay bowl to her right.

Her hand trembled like a faulty muffler, and he found she couldn't apply any strength to the cut. She set aside the knife, deciding that if she tried any harder she was liable to cut a finger off. She leaned against the counter, closing her eyes tight and trying to control her breathing.

The Manor was silent, except for the ponderous rhythm being played out by the red tall-case clock in the foyer. She wondered what her father and Lapis were talking about;

Her father always left her in the dark, even now, when she would feel some security just in the comprehension of the situation. And where was Sparrow? He seemed to become a ghost when something wasn't needed of him, but especially when it was.

It was then that she felt the small hairs on the back of her neck rise. She couldn't place the reason... It felt like someone was in the room with her.

She opened her eyes, and saw that this was the case.

A woman stood not ten feet from her, staring at her through the doorway to the foyer. She seemed to be from a black and white photo; She wore a pilot's jacket with a wool collar, tight pants, and steel-toed boots, all black.

Her hair was long, wavy, and also black. Her face was fair with a creamy complexion, almost ivory white. The only details that betrayed that she was not in fact monochrome were her ice blue eyes, which peered at Angela with a measured solemnity.

Angela felt as if she was about to faint. The strength all but drained from her legs and it seemed as if ice water had been poured into her insides.

"Who are you?"

The woman did not answer, only tilted her head slightly to the right, as if to motion Angela somewhere there. She turned, and strode out of the doorway.

She wants me to follow her?

After a moment, Angela composed herself and walked out of the kitchen, exiting the doorway and turned right, looking for the woman.

She was gone; All Angela saw was the foyer, empty save for the two chesterfield sofas sitting across from eachother near the great frontal window, and the telephone sitting on a dark wood desk.

The foyer was handsome, with hardwood floors the color of chocolate, an ornate crystal chandelier hanging above, and a mahogany curved staircase leading up to the second story. The staircase was mostly for everyone else's benefit, as the Mayor could not ascend or descend stairs. There was a small elevator next to the entrance to the kitchen for him to use instead.

Angela felt a pang of shame. I must be going crazy.

Then the phone rang, startling her already frayed nerves. The internal clapper was almost deafening in the Manor's stillness.

It rang once... Twice. Three times. Angela approached it slowly, dreading what would be said to her on the other end.

Four times.

She gripped the receiver, but couldn't find the strength to pick it up.

Five times.

She finally picked it up, held it to her ear. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

Weakly, she spoke. "Hello?"

A woman's voice answered her; It was a calm, expressionless mezzo-soprano.

"Did I find the right person? Are you the Mayor's daughter?"

"Who are you?"

"That isn't important. What is important is that there are men coming for your father."

Angela swallowed, her mouth dry as velcro. "Who are they?"

"They are men of Galthir, twelve of them. Well... Nine, now. They are commanded by one man, who claims to be a Colonel. This man is not who he says he is. He seeks only one thing, and he'll burn down your house with you in it, if it strikes his fancy. This man is a murderer. You must not trust him."

"And they're coming now?"

"They are coming right now. They are getting on the highway as we speak, undoubtedly they got the location of the Manor from your driver, Dreslim."

"Dreslim...? But he's..."

"Dead, now." There was silence on the other line, and Angela felt all the muscles in her body tense up, as if she were about to strike a body of water. "He had been selling information on you and your father for some time. Abaiss does not leave loose ends."

"But why? What do they want?"

"The girl with the silver hair. Is she there now?"

"Y-yes. But what does that..."

"I don't have time to explain to you what's happening. And neither do you. This is something has been set in motion for quite some time. You must warn your father."

"What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Tell him 'the face wears a new mask'. He'll understand. Go now, waste no time."

"Who are you?"

"Did I not tell you that was unimportant? Go now!"

Angela hurriedly hung up the receiver, and ran upstairs.

***

Mara hung up the payphone, and looked back at the black truck. The windshield was cracked and pocked with holes, and three Galthirian soldiers sat slumped in their seats, riddled with bullet wounds. She holstered her silenced pistol and got back in the car. Rain started to pour down from the swollen grey clouds amassing over Marta.