Month: October 2013

Avalon Book 1 – Chapter 2

Anne

Detective Anne Hearst looked at the hideous creature that was snarling at her and the strange man that somehow knocked the creature to the ground just before it clawed her. Her mind couldn’t reconcile with what her eyes were seeing.

“Draw your weapon!” the man commanded, “Shoot the goblin before it gets back up!” Goblin? What was he talking about? Then the creature scrambled back to its feet and snarled at her. The Glock 23 materialized in Anne’s hand and she fell into a firing stance. Gunfire erupted behind her. The man must be shooting at something else. Even in the relatively open space of the warehouse, the sound was deafening.

The goblin leapt at Anne again. She fired her pistol. Sickening red blossomed on the creature’s rough chest, but it didn’t stop. She fired again. And again. And again. The goblin howled in pain, but it kept staggering forward. Anne kept pulling the trigger until her pistol stopped firing. There was a flash of panic that her sidearm might have malfunctioned. She quickly realized the slide was locked back on an empty magazine. The goblin was badly hurt, but it was still moving towards her with a single-minded fury. Anne jammed the magazine release button. She could barely hear the clatter of the empty magazine on the concrete floor. She fumbled for a spare magazine while still holding her flashlight. Frustrated, she let go of the flashlight, yanked the spare magazine from her belt, slammed it in, and pulled back on the slide. She could barely see the goblin in the sudden darkness, but it was enough. She opened fire. Three more hits and the goblin fell to the concrete. It didn’t move again.

Anne picked up her flashlight and turned back to where the man had been shooting. Two goblins lay at his feet as he fired his pistol at a third. The long, dark coat and floppy hat obscured his features as he slid across the floor to bring his weapon to bear. Four more barks from his pistol and a third gray-green body fell unmoving into the light. Anne finally got a good look at him as he turned back to her.

The man was around six feet tall. Under the jacket, she could see his wiry frame. He had a long, lean face with maybe a day’s stubble. It was the eyes that stopped her. There was something alluring, but disturbing in the man’s dark eyes. He was saying something, but she couldn’t make out his words.

“RELOAD YOUR PISTOL,” he said loudly enough to overcome her gunfire-induced deafness, “THEIR LEADER IS STILL OUT THERE.” She mimicked him as he ejected the spent magazine from his pistol and slapped in a fresh one. He held his finger to his lips to remind her to be quiet. Who was this guy? Whoever he was, he seemed to know how to kill those goblins, so Anne decided to follow his lead. At least for the moment.


Erik

Erik heard as the detective fell in behind him. From her reactions, this was definitely the first time she’d encountered goblins, which meant his intelligence was wrong – again. Whatever she was, this woman was not a summoner. Still, she was definitely an unusual person. He doubted most people would have recovered quickly enough from the shock to deal with the little goblins. He needed to help this woman survive long enough to figure out exactly who and what she was. Now where was the damned hobgoblin?

“Give me the woman,” a raspy voice demanded from the darkness. The words echoed through the warehouse.

“I just wiped out your little hunting pack,” Erik answered back, “I’m not seeing why I should.”

“Avalonian, that human belongs to the Meliandre,” the hobgoblin said. “You do not want to draw Meliandre’s wrath.” Erik focused his senses and probed for the nonhuman’s mind. It was right about – there. He lifted his pistol to the rafters. The flashlight on the pistol’s dust cover illuminated the hobgoblin. Like its lesser cousins, the hobgoblin’s skin was a rough gray-green. Long, pointed ears peaked out of a mane of pure white hair, while an almost human face snarled at him. Erik didn’t hesitate. He fired twice, knocking the nasty creature off its perch. As it hit the concrete, Erik fired twice more into the hobgoblin’s head.

“What did you do that for?” Anne demanded. Erik turned back to her. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than him. Cold, blue eyes glared out from Nordic features. There was just the slight hint of strawberry in her blonde hair. From the emotions raging from the detective, she was terrified and angry.

“Hobgoblins are tougher than they look,” he said loudly enough for her to hear. After all that gunfire, the detective’s ears must be ringing. He’d have to ask Veronica to do something so the detective wouldn’t suffer some permanent hearing loss from the night’s battle. He flipped out his phone and hit the speed dial.

Ja,” came the smooth German accented voice.

“Kurt, I need a pickup for the detective and myself,” Erik said, “Have Sam and Veronica be ready. This is going to be a long night.” Erik closed the phone without hearing a reply. Kurt was rock solid like that.

“How can you hear anything?” Anne asked. Erik fished out one of the hearing-aid sized electronic devices from his ear.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Erik,” he answered, focusing his senses on her. He needed to get her psi-scent fixed firmly in his mind. Suddenly, he couldn’t feel a thing from her.

“Stop that, whatever you’re doing,” Anne said. She brought up her pistol. “Put your gun on the ground and show me some ID.” As she spoke, Erik could feel the wild magic pulse strongly around them.

“That might not be a good idea,” Erik said, “We’ve got more company.” Before Anne could repeat her order, a circle of red light appeared in the middle of the warehouse. Four large, overly-muscular creatures jumped into the warehouse. Erik took one look at their dark grey skin painted with runes and claymore-sized swords. He didn’t have to see their twisted faces to know.

“I hate orcs,” Erik said as he brought up his pistol. Then, his world fell out from under him as the elf casually walked out. It couldn’t be. Erik was sure he killed that damned elf a decade ago. As the elf turned to face him, it’s eerily perfect features contorted into a grimace. Glad to see it remembered him as well.

“Jaegar? What are you doing here?” the elf asked.

“Arem,” was all Erik could manage as remembered rage coursed through him.

“I’ll make this simple for you,” Arem said, “Give me the woman and I’ll make your death quick and relatively painless. Try and keep her from me, and I will give you the death you truly deserve.”

“Arem, I’m going to enjoy killing you again,” Erik said, locking eyes with the elf. Arem nodded slightly. The battle began.

Friday Quote – Sam Kean

Think of the most fussy science teacher you ever had. The one who docked your grade if the sixth decimal place in your answer was rounded incorrectly; who tucked in his periodic table T-shirt, corrected every student who said “weight” when he or she meant “mass”, and made everyone, including himself, wear goggles even while mixing sugar water. Now try to imagine someone whom your teacher would hate for being anal-retentive. That is the kind of person who works for a bureau of standards and measurement.”

Sam Kean in The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales of Madness, Love, and the History of the World From the Periodic Table of the Elements

This was an excellent narrative of the science and scientists that discovered the various elements of the periodic table, as well as the development of the table itself.

Metal Tuesday – Rebellion – Eric the Red

This week’s Metal Tuesday is Rebellion’s “Eric the Red.” This plain, good, ole Viking Metal!

Lyrics:

Away from Iceland’s shores I must,
the king says I must go
Some neighbours asked a fight with me
and I laid their bodies low

Now my face is in the wind again
and friends are by my side
The green land we are looking for
and we trust in Odin’s might

Come join me now I know the way,
(We’ll be free!)
No king to rule us down
(Ride the sea!)
Man the boats and hoist the sails,
(All hands on deck!)
There’s land to find I know,
(Don’t look back!)

Through the wind and storm I’ll carry on
To a new land where the sun will dawn
In the wind and storm I’ll raise my head
Eric the Red

My son I see the fire in your eyes
as I felt when I was young
And I’ve listened to the Skalds and tales, you’ve gotta go as I have done

But it’s your way Leif Eriksson,
the Red has come too old
The Vinland you will find I know,
Ride the wind be strong and bold

Come join me now I know the way,
(We’ll be free!)
No king to rule us down
(Ride the sea!)
Man the boats and hoist the sails,
(All hands on deck!)
There’s land to find I know,
(Don’t look back!)

Through the wind and storm I’ll carry on
To a new land where the sun will dawn
In the wind and storm I’ll raise my head
Eric the Red

Avalon – Book 1 – Chapter 1

Erik

“You’re going to draw unwanted attention sitting like that,” Sam said as she walked across the roof to where Erik was crouched on the ridge. The tall brunette peered down the twenty stories to the streets below. “You look like you’re either going to jump or pretending to be Batman.”

“I suppose,” Erik relented and crawled back down from the edge of the roof. “Sorry, old habit.” Sam didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Sam could reprove him with just a look on her heart shaped face. It was one of the few perks of being his oldest friend.

“What are you doing up here?” Erik asked.

“Kurt called. Our target is going back to the warehouse,” Sam answered. “It’s secluded enough. We might want to make contact and make a determination.” Erik pondered that for a few moments before nodding.

“I’ll do the contact,” Erik asked. “I’ll make the determination. Kurt can back me up. Veronica and you can wait at the safehouse.” Sam’s face set into a hard look.

“Why you and not me?” Sam asked, “She might react better to a woman than you.” She waved her hands in disgust at Erik’s outfit. He couldn’t see what was wrong with it. A long, denim, black duster covered a dark blue cotton shirt and jeans. He’d seen other men wearing similar clothes on television. Still, Sam was much better at finding those slight differences in what was considered normal this side of the gate.

“Maybe if the contact was going to be more public. Since it’s not, if something goes sideways, I’m more experienced in combat. And killing,” Erik said, the last two words almost a whisper. Sam paused before launching her next verbal salvo. Her lips pressed into a tight grimace. She hated it when he was right.

“Fine,” she spat out, “You be careful. I’ve been to enough funerals in the past year.” Erik’s face darkened before Sam realized her mistake.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, “I know you feel that it was all your fault the way things ended. I just want you to be careful here. It’s not like at home. I want you around for a long time.” Erik nodded, and a grim smile appeared on his face.

“I will be careful,” Erik said before leaping off the building. Sam gasped, and then started swearing. Okay, their powers were a bit degraded on this side of the gate, but this was easy. The hard part was keeping the duster from billowing out too much. And Erik always loved flying when he could get away with it.


Anne

Detective Anne Hearst looked down at the chalk outline and faded bloodstains. Three months, three victims. Each brutally torn apart. The shrink her team had consulted said the killer was exhibiting signs of an explosive, savage rage. That was the takeaway from a three hundred page report the shrink had delivered to the police. Well that, and the normal profile. Probably a white male, intelligent, in a menial position. The shrink sure as hell couldn’t identify the connection between the three victims. The first had been a blond stay at home mom in the suburbs killed while doing her morning power walk. The second was a Hispanic gay man coming out of a club. This victim was tentatively identified as a black homeless man known to the dockworkers as “Stubby Joe.”

She looked around the warehouse. It looked like any of the several abandoned warehouses near the dockyard. Another victim of the recession. The wide open space was dusty and the steel supports were starting to rust. She could smell the pungent odors of human squatters with the unique smell of the the river. Her flashlight lanced out into the dark space. If the murder hadn’t cleared out the squatters, then all of the police activity certainly had. All that was left was debris.

“Why are you down here Annie?” she murmured to herself. “Mom is going to kill you for ducking her again just to wallow in a crime scene.” For some reason, she’d felt pulled down here tonight. Like a clue would emerge if she’d just come down to the scene one more time. She knelt down next to the blood. Then she felt it again. Something odd in the air. She’d felt it at the other murder scenes. Like the air was tingling with barely perceptible electricity. Then, the energy spiked. It was like the one time she’d grabbed a hot electrical wire. Power flashed through her. As it subsided, Anne slowed her breathing. Maybe it was time to go see that shrink. Her heart leapt as hissing whispers came from deeper in the warehouse.

“Who’s there?” Anne demanded, swinging her flashlight around the darkness, “This is the police. Come out and show yourself!” Her hand fell to the butt of her Glock. There was movement on the edge of her flashlight beam. She swung the beam after whoever it was. As her beam landed on the source, Anne revised her statement. Not a who, a what. Her mind reeled with what her eyes were seeing, so it grabbed on to what was familiar. The thing stood upright, had a head, two arms, and two legs. It let out a high-pitched growl, like the cheetah at the city zoo. It’s gold eyes flashed at her as it’s gray-green face split to reveal a mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth.

Anne screamed as it leapt at her. She was paralyzed as the unearthly creature attacked her. What the hell was that thing? She couldn’t even think to draw her sidearm. Just as she could smell the creature’s foul, hot breath, it was knocked to the side. A man slid beside her, holding a black pistol. Funny, she didn’t hear the gunshot.

“Who are you?” was all Anne could think to say.

Friday Quote – Battle of Mogadishu

We have a Blackhawk down.

Twenty years ago, Americans woke up to the bewildering images of the bodies of American soldiers being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu. What the hell? Why are they doing this? Weren’t we there to help feed them?

Later we would learn the details of the Battle of Mogadishu. Many learned from Black Hawk Down by Mark Bowden, the book (and later movie) whose title would ever be synonymous with the battle. Stories of heroism as soldiers risked, and sometimes lost, their lives to make sure no one was left behind.

On the Passing of Tom Clancy

Tom Clancy has died at age 66. My condolences go to his family and friends.

I picked up my first Clancy novel, Red Storm Rising, when I was 12 and burned through it. Then I went back to read The Hunt For Red October. Clancy’s pacing, breadth of narrative and characters, as well as his often-in depth technical discussions were influences on my own writing. I stopped eagerly gobbling up his books around The Bear and the Dragon, not because they’d become bland, but rather I had moved on to other genres. I still have a fondness for his books.

An interesting anecdote. About 15-20 years ago, Clancy came down to the VA Hospital here in Tampa. My dad and the hospital director got to meet him. The quick conversation related to me by my dad.

Hospital Director: What’s your new book about?

Clancy: About $19.95.

Yes, I laughed for a couple of days.