Spellbound: Book II of the Grimnoir Chronicles

The Japanese troops are unflinching in their duty. Despite being outnumbered five to one, their elite corps of Actives assaulted the Russian fortifications with precise coordination. Never before have I seen men so willing to die to achieve a goal, and more importantly, so willing to die to atone for not achieving that goal. I witnessed a few soldiers who failed their compatriots during the assault, ask permission from a superior and then take their own lives in shame. The Imperial soldier looks upon death in the service of his lord as the singular purpose of his existence.

—Captain John J. Pershing,

Army Observation Report on the taking

of Vladivostok, 1905

Fairfax County, Virginia

Dan Garrett was sweating bullets. Sullivan didn’t even look nervous, but then again, he was the tough guy with the Power that was useful for slugging it out inside a house full of Imperium. If Dan had known that one of the Iron Guards was a reader, he would never have gone through with this. It was damn near impossible to Influence a Reader. So much for sticking the idea in someone’s head and then talking their way out. He was regretting having come up with this idea in the first place.

Though it did seem to be working.

The ambassador placed his hands flat on the table, as if to steady himself. “Tokugawa had long warned us of the coming of this menace. At first, many did not believe his talk of this predator from another world. In the years before he became the Chairman, before the emperor realized the greatness and wisdom of—”

“Before he took over Japan?” Sullivan asked.

It was obvious that the ambassador didn’t like the Heavy’s version of diplomacy. “He did not take over. The emperor came to embrace his counsel.”

“Whatever.”

“Long before he came to the imperial court, when the Chairman was merely a lone swordsman wandering the land, was when the first Pathfinder found us. Tokugawa battled it alone. He defeated the creature, but only after an epic struggle. Knowing that, in time, more scouts would come, he began to gather those that also understood the Power to his side. He was the first Active, but he found others nearly as powerful. Those who, like him, were bound with the Power when magic was newly arrived to our world. Then he recruited soldiers. He taught us, hardened us, bound us to kanji, because only the strongest would be able to withstand the corrupting magic of the Enemy. A group such as ours was illegal by the emperor’s decree, so we trained in secret. We were few at first, and because Okubo Tokugawa had been outcast because of his magic, he was only able to recruit from the basest elements, peasants, former samurai who wished to return to ways that the emperor had outlawed, and even yakuza.”

“What’s a yakuza?” Dan asked. He’d been practicing phrases in Japanese to use as magical weapons when fighting Imperium troops, but actually learning the complicated language had so far eluded him.

The ambassador pulled back one sleeve to reveal now-faded, once-colorful tattoos that began at the wrist and completely covered his arm. “I read your American newspapers and the talk of your criminals . . . Your mob. Let us say that I could have taught this Al Capone a thing or two.” He covered the markings. “It is a shameful past to bear, but Okubo Tokugawa did not care about his soldier’s history, he cared only about our ability. You must understand, this was a very unorthodox idea at the time. We chose new names and swore fealty to him, allowing Lord Tokugawa to mold us as he saw fit.”

“So the Chairman started a secret society,” Dan mused. “Looks like we got more in common than I thought.” Sullivan glanced over at him. The Heavy didn’t seem to like that idea.

“We were called Genyosha. The Dark Ocean.”

“Dark Ocean is the key . . .” Sullivan muttered under his breath.

“Another scout came. Dark Ocean lost many warriors, but we defeated the creature. This one had been even stronger than the last. Okubo Tokugawa knew that we had to be more prepared, and that Dark Ocean alone would not be enough. Eventually the Enemy would break through and consume the world. He did not need just one united organization, he needed a united nation, then an empire, and eventually a world. That was his vision. Only through that level of strength and purification could we hope to defeat the Enemy.”

“You believe that?”

“Of course.” The ambassador seemed honestly surprised at the question. “He was invincible and wise. I pledged my life to him. Most of us did. Dark Ocean became a tool of political manipulation. Many unfortunate things befell our enemies. In a short time, he controlled the Edo court, and thus became the Chairman. The mission to purify the world began. We started at home, eliminating the weak and raising the strong. Next we took Korea, then China, where we built the schools and began the experiments. Millions have died so far, and millions more surely will follow, but in the end, the world will be strong.”

Dan was astounded. “All of the evil things you’ve done—”

“Are nothing compared to what would happen if the Enemy wins. Do you not understand that yet, Grimnoir? Have you never looked into the eyes of a Summoned?”

Dan shook his head in the negative. The things had always made him a little uncomfortable, even the tame ones that Francis had owned. Sullivan leaned forward, intrigued.

“Those broken spirits, those damaged creatures, they are all that remain of the intelligences from the last world the Power inhabited before it fled to ours. They are refugees, dragged along with the Power. That will be the fate of man if the Enemy wins. The Chairman showed us a vision of the last world. It had been magnificent, far beyond our understanding, with cities made of coral, grown as tall as the clouds. But it was all ruined when the Power left them behind to be consumed by the Enemy. I would do anything the Chairman asked to spare us that fate.”

Sullivan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “How’s Dark Ocean the key?”

“I do not know. Dark Ocean is no more. When Okubo Tokugawa became the Chairman, there was no longer a need for us to hide. Dark Ocean was disbanded. We were placed in positions of trust and authority to continue to work on his behalf. It is no more. Our warriors became the first of the Iron Guard, our assassins the first Shadow Guard, those that could read minds or spin words became the diplomats. Few of us remain, and those that live are feeble old men serving as teachers, bureaucrats, or such as I.”

“What about the other ones that were nearly as strong as the Chairman? He said they could help us.”

“I will not speak of them . . . I have told you enough, Grimnoir. Your message has been delivered. I will communicate it to my superiors and action will be taken. Since you came under a flag of truce, the two of you will be allowed to leave.”

“Do your superiors know the Chairman’s dead, or does the hoax go all the way to the top?” Sullivan asked.

The ambassador’s face turned red. “You try my patience, fool. Pray to your false god that the Chairman still lives, because without him to lead us against the Enemy, we are all doomed.”

Iron Guard Toru waited patiently before the mirror. The Power required to keep the link open was draining, but he would hold it as long as necessary. The Chairman had to be consulted. Toru owed the Chairman his life in more ways than one. It had been the Chairman’s mercy that had spared him after his dishonorable actions in China. It had been the Chairman’s wisdom that had dispatched Toru to America to learn at the side of the wise and noble Ambassador Hattori.

Most of all, it had been the Chairman that had given him life, for Toru was one of the thousand sons of Okubo Tokugawa. It was prestigious, but much was expected from a warrior that had the very blood of the Chairman pulsing in their heart.

It was a shock when the Chairman himself appeared in all his majesty in the mirror. The greatest warrior of all time! Toru nearly choked. It was only the third time he’d ever had the honor of speaking to his father in person. His forehead hit the floor.

“What is this?” the Chairman demanded.

Toru did not dare to lift his eyes as he stammered out his story.

“They said I was dead, did they? You are certain the Grimnoir spoke of Dark Ocean?”

“Yes, but I was not familiar with what they spoke of.”

“Then you left them alone with Hattori?”

The Iron Guard died inside. He had displeased his father. “As Hattori commanded.”

The Chairman was seething. “Listen carefully, Iron Guard Toru . . . Go immediately and kill the Grimnoir. Do not question them or capture them. Kill them.”

“Yes, Chairman.” He started to rise.

“Wait.”

Toru finally dared lift his head a tiny bit. The Chairman was watching him with eyes of fire. Toru quickly looked back down. A small brown mouse was scurrying along the bedroom wall, surely sensing the Chairman’s fury and trying to escape. Toru felt as low and pathetic as the rodent. The Chairman did not speak for some time, as if he was pondering a great riddle.

“If I have failed you I will—”

“Seppuku? You have a habit of making poor decisions, Iron Guard Toru, but no.” Toru was filled with shame at the rebuke. “I have need of you still. Your actions are not what is troubling me. It is this matter before us, but I have made my decision. Your next task will be more difficult. We must assume that Hattori has been influenced by Grimnoir cunning. After you have disposed of them, Hattori must die.”

Toru could not believe his ears. He must have heard wrong. “Chairman?”

“Ambassador Hattori is surely influenced by their magic and must be destroyed. Allow him to speak to none of the men. He is not to be trusted. Do you understand, Iron Guard?”

His stomach was sour. Hattori was his mentor. Killing him was unthinkable. “Yes, Chairman. I will do as you command.”

“See to it. Summon some of your men.”

Toru leapt to his feet. He flung the door open and called out. Within a moment he was joined by two marines. When they saw whom he was speaking to, they dropped to their knees and bowed as deeply as possible.

“You are witnesses to my will. Ambassador Hattori is relieved from command immediately. You will answer only to Iron Guard Toru.”

Flustered by the honor of being spoken to directly by the Chairman, the men barely managed to sputter their confirmations.

“Report when it is finished.”

The mirror flashed white and the spell was broken.

He had just been asked to kill his closest friend. It was madness. Hattori was a loyal warrior of the Imperium; he would never go over to the Grimnoir. Toru was consumed with doubt, just as he had been when he had last failed the Imperium. An Iron Guard does not doubt. An Iron Guard acts. There was no time for thought, no time for hesitation, not when the Chairman had personally given him an order. There was a rack by the door filled with weapons. He picked up his favorite, a steel tetsubo. Toru spun the spiked club through the air. “For the Imperium!”

It took a lot of practice to get the hang of steering a field mouse. The mouse eye view of the world was radically different and hard to adapt to. Colors faded to a grayish-green, details were fuzzy while the smallest movements or lights became incredible beacons. The faintest smells were incredibly distracting, and his sensitive paws could feel the tiniest of vibrations or variations in the surface, but mostly it was hard to drive a mouse because everything was huge. The giant skyscrapers he was running between were small indoor trees. The jungle was a fern. It was hard for a human being to make the shift. It was a good thing that Lance Talon had a lot of practice.

He had picked up the mouse at the Bonus Army camp. Once it was under his control, which was a snap with an animal that had such an itty-bitty brain, he’d stuck the mouse in Dan’s pocket. It had taken an amount of Power way out of proportion to the animal’s size to keep control, but that was because of the distance involved more than anything.

Controlling an animal was sort of like driving an automobile. You didn’t become the car, but you sat in the driver’s seat and told it what to do. In Lance’s case, he was a much better than average Beastie, and could actually feel through all of the animal’s senses. He’d followed his friends into the dragon’s den with the goal of keeping an eye on things. When the one Iron Guard had been ordered out, Lance had decided to tail him, and it was a good thing that he had. It was also a good thing that the ambassador didn’t own a cat.

The little animal’s heart beat at an insane rate as Lance forced the little legs to keep moving. He could feel the rapid drumming as if it was his own.

Lance’s conscious mind was in two places, and while the part that was in the mouse ran to warn Dan and Jake about the Iron Guard coming to club them to death, the rest of him was pulling the canvas cover off the new 5-inch Stokes mortar that had been bolted down in the bed of his truck.

“Maybe we should be going now . . .” Dan Garrett whispered to his friend.

But Sullivan still had questions. He was a man that collected questions like kids collected baseball cards. “I want to know more about how this Pathfinder creature works.” It was obvious that the Heavy didn’t trust the Imperium to take care of business.

“Do not trouble yourself with things beyond your comprehension.” The ambassador was a crafty one. He’d told them much, but wasn’t about to give up anything that would make the Grimnoir more capable foes. “I am done with you. I must return to dine with your countrymen that are more than willing to assist the Imperium’s goals as long as there is gold involved. Your country rots from the inside out. Perhaps I have been a diplomat for too long and forgotten the ways of the Iron Guard, but because you came under a flag of truce, though it pains me, protocol demands that I must allow you to leave in peace.”

Dan breathed a huge sigh of relief. It looked like he wasn’t going to have to try to Talk their way out after all.

“That was a most difficult decision. When we meet again, I will not be merciful. In fact, now that I know that somehow any of you survived the Tokugawa means that you will be inevitably hunted down and exterminated.” The ambassador stood. Though he was withered and aged, the old warrior still carried himself with pride. He clapped once. The doors opened and the soldiers filed back in. “See them out. Keep them away from the guests.”

Dan was hauled roughly to his feet by the guards. It was degrading, but he was glad to be leaving. Avenging Heinrich could wait until they weren’t outnumbered ten to one. When Sullivan didn’t get up fast enough for them, one of the guards grabbed Sullivan’s arm, but the Heavy just shrugged the man off. Subguns were leveled his way and bolts were retracted. Dan could appreciate his companion’s stubbornness, but sure wished that he was better at knowing when to pick his fights.

Sullivan took his time standing up. “Make sure your superiors listen, ambassador. I’d hate to have to come back here.”

“An Imperium man does not have fear . . . except for this Enemy. It will be done.” The ambassador walked for the exit. The guards formed a protective line between him and the Grimnoir. “Farewell.” He paused and looked down at his foot as something tiny and brown leapt across his shoe. “What’s this?”

“Incoming!” the mouse shouted with a surprisingly loud voice.

Grabbing his Power, Dan opened his mouth to shout one of the Japanese phrases he’d been practicing, but before he could get the words out, Sullivan thrust one hand out and caught him by the wrist. Suddenly gravity bent. The table and chairs tumbled away and the room’s occupants were airborne.

He had never been on the receiving end of one of Sullivan’s gravity manipulating tricks before. Dan found himself dangling by one arm, only kept from being flung across the room by Sullivan’s grasp. Down was wrong. Instead of being on the ground where it always was, it was somewhere behind him, where the Imperium marines were crashing through the silk screens. It was disorienting, like the most effective carnival fun house ever, only there wasn’t anything funny about gravity being violated. It was frankly terrifying.

Sullivan released his Power and down returned to being down. Dan hit on the floor at Sullivan’s feet with a grunt. He’d done better than the Imperium men, who had been spread across the room. The Heavy wasted no time yanking him up. “Run for it.”

Lance’s mouse had an easier time disentangling himself than the humans. The little thing stopped in the doorway ahead of them. “Iron Guard headed your way. The Chairman ordered him to pop you. I’ve got—”

A polished dress shoe squished the mouse flat.

“You again,” Sullivan said.

Dan looked up to see Toru standing in the doorway blocking their escape. The Iron Guard was holding a gigantic four-foot-long metal club in one hand. He surveyed the damage, said something in Japanese to the guards that had landed on the ambassador, then pointed his club at Sullivan’s chest and shouted another order. He stepped forward, swinging, but Sullivan used his Power and the Iron Guard was hurled back. The club tore a big chunk out of the wall as Toru tried to catch himself, but then he spun through and disappeared from sight. Sullivan charged right after him.

“Jake!” The guards were getting up. Dan spied one of the weird Jap subguns and snatched it off the floor. He kicked the closest Imperium man in the face for good measure. “Shit!” Dan ran after the Heavy as a guard started firing pistol bullets right over his head.

Somebody had just stomped him and all his guts had exploded out his side. The pain was astounding, but it only lasted for a split second.

The real Lance Talon came back to consciousness lying on the cold bed of his truck, a mortar round still clutched in his hands. The sensation had overpowered both parts of him and put him flat on his back. There were certainly some disadvantages to being able to use all of the animal’s senses. Luckily the feeling went away as soon as the link did, because it was something you never got used to.

Lance found his pocket watch and opened it. He’d inscribed the spell on the glass earlier. This wasn’t taking too much Power because it was only to one other person, and she was nice and close. The glass showed nothing but black. “Jane! You there?”

She must have adjusted her mirror, because a pretty face swung into view. “I’m here.”

“Your husband will be needing a ride right quick.”

Jane started her car. “I’m on the way.”

“Good. Be careful.” He closed the watch and stuffed it back in his coat. “Because if you aren’t, Dan’s liable to come apart at the seams,” Lance muttered to himself.

The Imperial compound was approximately five hundred yards away, on the other side of a copse of trees, out of sight, but well within range of the Stokes mortar. He’d carefully prepped the powder charges, preloading each of the rings at the base of the shells, and as long as he hadn’t totally screwed up the aiming calculations, (the instruction manual had told him 56 degrees for this range) the rounds should impact relatively close. At least the Imperium didn’t have any neighbors he might accidentally hit.

The truck box was tall, and at his height he could move around in the back with just a slight crouch. Nobody passing by would realize this was anything more than just a regular old box truck. The instructions had warned that the recoil was firm, so he’d bolted the Stokes down, cut the truck box’s roof off, and called it good. The Grimnoir now had field artillery.

Lance hadn’t fired one of these things since the war. This new one didn’t look too impressive, just a big pipe on a tripod, with a couple of gears for fine adjustments. How bad could it be? He dropped the shell down the tube, then covered his ears just in case. The recoil rocked the truck springs. The blast was impressive enough to knock his hat off. “Hot damn! That’s the stuff!”

He reached for his Power and felt his surroundings for life. Living creatures stood out, like glowing blobs on a map that stretched for half a mile in every direction. The bigger animals were brighter, and the smaller ones faint, each kind with their own certain color. Some horses, cows . . . a dog . . . There. A bunch of fast movers. The blast had shocked a flock of black birds out of a nearby tree and into the air. Lance grabbed one. The simple animal’s brain was shoved to the back, and then Lance was flying.

Gaining altitude, he pointed his beak toward the Imperium compound. One nice thing about birds was that they always had a good sense of direction. Amazing vision too. Lance couldn’t explain the science behind their eyes, but they saw colors that he couldn’t even explain to other people because man had never invented words for them. The mansion was easy to spot from a hundred yards up. He enjoyed the sensation of the wind and waited for the shell to hit.

A few more seconds passed before impact. There was a shower of sparks as the shell struck the outer wall of the compound and burst. A cloud of noxious chemical smoke began to belch forth. Lance let go of the bird so that he could have all of his brain to work with. He was a bit off, so he grabbed the elevation wheel and moved it two clicks. The smoke bombs had been made for laying down cover for the troops to advance across no-man’s land during the war, and they put out a lot of smoke, so Lance figured they should make a real good distraction for Jake and Dan.

But once he got sign that they were out, then he’d start tossing the good stuff.

Toru fell into the Atrium. He was not worried, having trained against Omosa before, or Heavies as they were called in America, including the legendary Iron Guard Madi, and knew the key to defeating one was keeping your wits. As gravity changed direction, he would have to adapt quickly. Like now for example, he was falling, yet remained parallel to the ground, so he tried to keep his body oriented so that the inevitable return to normal would not cause injury or place himself in an indefensible position. A skilled Heavy often overwhelmed his foe through sheer confusion, but an Iron Guard with the proper mindset would not be fooled by such tricks. Toru reached the end of gravity’s distortion, and landed on his feet, skidding through the imported topsoil.

Several marines were running toward the commotion. Toru had not even come to a stop before he was shouting orders. “Bind the ambassador. He has been corrupted by Grimnoir magic.” The men were confused by his command, but they would obey without question. Then the Heavy ran into the atrium, looking for a fight. The two warriors spotted each other and Sullivan charged. “The big Grimnoir is mine!”

Gravity changed again, hard to the side. It was not like being hurled by a Mover. There was no pushing, not even a sensation of being pulled, just that the thing you had understood as gravity your entire life was now aimed someplace else. Toru kept his mind clear and caught himself on one of Hattori’s prized maples. He held on as dirt and leaves rushed past. The marines did not fare as well and hit the wall hard. One crashed through a window.

The Heavy was wasting his Power on tricks. Toru had yet to display his own Power. The tactical advantage was his. The Heavy would not know what to expect, and would probably be too slow to adapt. The Iron Guard’s stomach lurched as gravity returned, and he landed in a crouch. The atrium was filled with a dusty cloud as the disturbed topsoil fell. Sullivan was coming his way with a determined look on his face. After such displays of magical prowess, it should take the Heavy a moment before he could distort gravity again. Toru activated his magic and felt his physical strength increase ten-fold. With a roar, he launched himself out of the garden and across the space. He covered twenty feet in the blink of an eye and lifted the tetsubo overhead as he descended, prepared to crush the Heavy.

Sullivan did not so much as show surprise at the display. Gravity lurched and Sullivan dodged to the side as if he weighed nothing. The steel tetsubo smashed a gigantic hole in the hardwood floor. Gravity betrayed Toru again, and he found himself rolling across the floor.

The Heavy was catching his breath. “So you’re a Brute.”

“Yes.” The Iron Guard rose. “You should not be able to use your Power so quickly.”

“Lots of practice.”

“Know that you face Iron Guard Toru, one of the thousand sons of Okubo Tokugawa!”

“That’s gonna be nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine sons if you don’t get out of my face.”

Toru came in swinging. His weapon was so heavy that most men would have a hard time even lifting it, yet he swung the steel tetsubo faster that most Iron Guard could wield a katana. It covered a vast arc with each movement, and anything it struck would be obliterated. Sullivan moved back, trying to stay ahead of the club. The Heavy had to be making himself lighter, because there was no way a man of that stature could be so quick—

Toru flinched as Sullivan threw a handful of soil into his eyes. Then a big fist caught him square in the nose. Sullivan had stepped inside the swing and actually hit him. Toru stepped back, blinking. Sullivan followed, and managed to strike him several more times. Toru’s Power made his tissues incredibly resilient, but he felt each of the blows. It was like being hit with a sledgehammer. Toru ducked around the next attack. Years of training caused him to react without conscious thought, and he slammed one open palm into Sullivan’s ribs. The shock up his forearm was like hitting a rock.

Sullivan sailed back, but somehow landed on his feet. Toru’s Power fueled strike should have shattered all of his ribs and pulped most of his internal organs, but the Heavy only grimaced and pressed his hand to his side. Only another Brute or a Massive could have taken such a blow. “Impossible. How do you live?”

“Like I said . . . Practice.”

Toru rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to clear his clouded vision. Seeing was very difficult, but no matter, he could see well enough to destroy this obnoxious Heavy. He lifted the tetsubo. This time he would not strike with reckless abandon, but rather he would break the Heavy with precision. Sullivan must have sensed the careful shift in strategy, because he turned and ran for the ambassador’s garden. “Coward!” Toru followed.

But Sullivan was not trying to get away, and once between the trees, he stopped, raised his hands, and waited.

Clever. The Heavy was trying to neutralize the reach advantage of the tetsubo. However, it would not work. The biggest tree there was only as big around as Toru’s leg. With a burst of Power, Toru cleaved his tetsubo through the growth. Trunks burst into splinters and barely slowed the club. Sullivan retreated as Toru destroyed everything in his path.

The ambassador’s guests had been frightened by the noise and spilled out of the dining room to see what was going on. These men, business leaders and elected officials, were valuable assets for the Chairman’s plans. Having them witness this spectacle was not beneficial at all. And worse, he spotted the other Grimnoir running right into the crowd of guests and yelling crazily at them. Toru could feel the impressive Power from here. “Seize the fat one!”

There was a noise as the glass ceiling of the atrium shattered. Something hit the far wall and coughed golden sparks. Grey smoke hissed out in a pressurized jet. What?

The distraction cost him. He looked away just as he cleaved a stout maple in half, and branches crashed down, temporarily entangling his tetsubo. Simultaneously, Sullivan surged his Power, and Toru found himself weightless. He had never experienced such a thing before. Surprised, he jerked on the trapped tetsubo to hold himself from floating away, except his Brute strength caused him to overcompensate. His legs flew into the air, then he was upside down and doing everything he could just to hang on.

Sullivan used the opportunity to nonchalantly pick up an entire fallen tree. The Heavy shouldered it like it was his own tetsubo and then he smashed the trunk into kindling against Toru’s body. The Iron Guard barely had time to flare his Power to protect himself as he sailed across the atrium. He crashed into a support pillar hard enough to shake the entire mansion.

It took him a moment to clear his head. The atrium was filled with noxious smoke. Sullivan was nowhere to be seen, nor was the other Grimnoir. Toru ignored his injuries, knowing that his four Healing kanji would keep up, and surged to his feet. Many of the guests were throwing fits, even struggling against his marines.

An American congressman and a mine owner had wrestled one of his men to the ground and were shouting at the poor confused warrior.

“How dare you Nip bastards rip us off!”

“Take that!” The congressman began choking the marine.

Toru tried to be gentle as he booted the two Americans off. The congressman futilely tried to punch Toru, so Toru slapped some sense into him then picked him him up by the neck. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The Chairman was going to pay us with fake gold!”

Toru tossed the American into the garden. The other Grimnoir must have been a Mouth, and he’d gone right for this type of fool’s biggest weaknesses, greed and fear. He did not have time to sort this out. “Try not to hurt them,” he told the marine. “The magic will wear off soon.”

The Iron Guard took up his tetsubo and ran for the front. The Grimnoir would be trying to escape. He might be able to cut them off. Toru turned to the side, flared his Power, and crashed through a window. The sharp glass slashed his clothing, but was unable to cut his magically toughened skin. He rolled across the lawn, then sprinted with speed that only a Brute could muster for the parking area. Thick smoke filled the entirety of the compound.

Luckily, the knight’s automobile had not left yet. Toru reached it, stuck his hands into the wheel well, surged his Power hard, lifted the huge car and rolled it over onto its roof. They wouldn’t be getting out that way.

“Iron Guard,” a breathless marine ran up to him. “The Grimnoir have climbed over the back wall.”

Another mortar round whistled in. This one hit the roof of the mansion. It must have been an incendiary because fire quickly spread across the shingles.

Toru roared in fury. Damned Grimnoir! “Put that fire out. Make sure the ambassador is secure. Lock him away and let no one speak to him. Get the guests under control, but do not hurt them . . .” The furious Iron Guard slammed his tetsubo into the upside-down car. The impact crushed the fender, threw one tire across the compound, and sent the whole vehicle slowly turning. “And retrieve my car!”

A blue Chrysler screeched to a halt on the road ahead. Jane had the window down. “Dan! Over here.”

Dan Garrett was huffing and panting. Sullivan had pushed him over the back wall and then the two of them had high tailed it through the forest behind the Imperium’s property. He had never been much for running. In college, he had been the football announcer. It was best to leave all that physical stuff to the boys that looked like Sullivan.

But at that moment, Jake wasn’t looking too good either. He kept one hand pressed to his side and his breathing was labored. Dan knew that it had to be bad if he was easily outrunning Jake. “Come on. Almost there.” They reached the automobile. “Honey, let me drive. Jake needs your help.”

“Darn right he does. He’s got a punctured lung!”

Sullivan fell into the back, Jane scrambled over the seat, and Dan got behind the wheel. He put it into gear and got them rolling. It would have been nice to keep that monster race car Sullivan had brought as their getaway car, but it was distinctive and would have stood out. It was ten o’clock at night, so there wasn’t much traffic in this rural area, there were a lot more cleared lots than homes, but there would be more cars to blend in with the closer they got to town.

Dan concentrated on the curving country road while his wife took care of Sullivan. The rear view mirror suddenly filled with a squat bearded face. “Hey.”

“Ah! Don’t do that,” Dan said.

“You deliver your message?” Lance asked.

“Sure did. Managed to wreck the place in the process. I convinced all those rich boys that the Chairman was swindling them. They must have had the possibility in the back of their minds because I didn’t even have to push hard.”

“Where’s Sullivan?”

“Down here.” Sullivan was lying on the back seat. “A Brute stomped a mud hole in me and walked it dry.”

“Hush while I work, Jake,” Jane ordered. “Good thing you’ve got that Healing spell on you or you’d be drowning in your own blood right now . . . Wait . . . More spells? Whatever have you been up to?”

Before Sullivan could answer, Lance shouted, “You got company!” Dan couldn’t see anything. “Car is going to catch you at the next intersection. Turn it around.” Lance must have grabbed an owl.

“You sure it’s Imperium?”

“There’s a guy riding on the running board with a machinegun. I don’t recall Virginians being that inhospitable.”

“Shoot,” Dan hit the brakes. There was a ditch on one side and trees on the other. There was no good spot to turn around. He shifted into reverse. “Hang on.”

“That Iron Guard didn’t strike me as a quitter,” Sullivan said.

Dan backed into the tree line, cranked the wheel, and then got them going back the way they came. He gunned it, but it would take a minute to get up to speed. There were headlights in the side mirror. “Here they come.” He watched the speedometer climb too slowly and found himself wishing that they’d kept that Hyperion.

The back window shattered. The Imperium had opened fire. Dan took them around a long curve and out of view. The shooting let up momentarily. His wife reached over and picked up the Thompson that had been occupying the passenger seat. Dan’s throat was tight. He had to get them out of here. He had to keep Jane safe.

The road straightened back out. The Imperium would be able to see them again. The Japanese machinegun opened up with a ponderous rate of fire. Red tracers flew past, and then another round hit. Stuffing flew from the passenger seat. Then the glass in front cracked. Jane answered and let the Thompson rip. The headlights behind them swerved side to side, but the flashes from that machinegun kept up. Then the side mirror exploded and Dan couldn’t watch anymore.

“There’s a fork ahead,” Lance shouted through the magical link. “Bear left.”

“That’s the wrong way,” Dan said.

“Do it!”

The road split into a Y. Dan swore and went left, which was taking them further out into the country, and even worse, into open farmland where they wouldn’t be able to shake their pursuers. “You better know what you’re doing, Lance!”

Iron Guard Toru pulled the spent magazine from the top of the Type-70 light machinegun and let it clatter down the road behind them. The marine in the passenger seat handed him another magazine of 8mm ammunition through the window. Toru rocked it into place and yanked back the bolt.

The car swerved as the Grimnoir returned fire. A normal man probably would have been thrown from the side, but all it did to Toru was upset his aim. That, the bumpy road, and the insects hitting him in the face were making this a challenge. “Hold steady!” Toru ordered.

The lights of the Grimnoir auto veered to the left, so he rested the Type-70 across the edge of the roof and squeezed the trigger, trying to walk the tracers into the moving target. One of the red tail lights went out and his magically augmented hearing recorded the metallic clangs of puncturing metal.

The Grimnoir were fools. He had scouted the surrounding countryside during the construction of the ambassador’s home. There was nowhere for them to hide in this direction. He would cut them to ribbons.

The Type-70 only had a 30 round magazine, and he burned through it in seconds. He tossed that mag and stuck his hand in the window for another. He’d barely finished reloading when he looked up to see a large black cow running into the road. It stopped, silhouetted in their headlights. He could have swore that the cow looked right at them and winked.

The driver hit the brakes and tried to turn, but he was too late. They hit the cow at nearly sixty miles an hour. The front of their car crashed into the solid animal. Toru flared his Power to hold on, but the aluminum handrail he’d latched onto tore through the sheet metal like paper.

He hit the road nearly eighty feet away, traveling fast, and smashed against the asphalt, bounced a few times, then rolled. The Power draw was intense, and he did his best to keep it up, but there were limits to even Brute toughness and he felt bones break and muscles tear as he gradually flopped to a stop.

It took Toru nearly ten seconds to collect himself. His four Healing kanji were all burning Power, desperately trying to fix his ruined body. He groaned and got to his feet. The machinegun was gone. The Grimnoir’s remaining tail light disappeared in the distance.

Toru muttered an oath that was far beneath the station of an Iron Guard.

Leaving a trail of blood from several deep lacerations, Toru weaved back to the wreck. One marine had been thrown through the window and into a field, and the driver had broke his skull against the steering wheel. Fluids were pouring from the engine. Their car was not going anywhere.

Somehow the accursed black cow was still alive, though not for long. All her legs were obviously broken, but she still managed to lift her bloody head to look at him with surprising intelligence. The farm animal then spoke to him with a voice like that of an American movie cowboy. “Didn’t see that coming, did yah, asshole?”

They had a Beastie. “Damn your foul animal magic, Grimnoir.”

“This link really hurts to keep up, but I just love to see the smug get wiped right off an Iron Guard’s face.” The cow laughed at him.

Iron Guard Toru limped over and punched the cow to death.

The fire had been put out by the time Toru walked back to the compound. Someone must have reported the commotion because a fire truck and a police car were stopped at the main gate. He was glad that the guards had followed protocol and not let any of the local authorities through. The identity of their guests had to be protected at all costs. Having such American business luminaries show up in the newspapers as consorting with the Imperium would be an embarrassment to them and a blow to the Chairman’s mission of infiltration and conquest.

Toru’s clothing was mostly destroyed, and though his wounds had sealed on their own, he was covered in drying blood. To avoid any entanglements with the American authorities, Toru had simply leapt over the back wall. The men could handle the police. His mind was preoccupied, dwelling on the horrible duty that he had to confront.

The captain of the guard gave him a brief report. The man was still flustered from having actually been addressed by the Chairman. Now that the Mouth’s influence had finally worn off, the guests were regaining their composure. The American police had been told that the fire was an accident, everything was under control, and that attempting to investigate the ambassador’s residence would cause an embarrassing diplomatic incident. Of course, they already had an agreement with the locals, so the predetermined amount of gold had exchanged hands. Ambassador Hattori had been secured as ordered. Toru inquired if anyone had spoken with the ambassador, and was told that the ambassador had not said a single word as they had led him away. Toru was glad to hear that, because he had not been looking forward to having to kill any other acquaintances tonight.

After dispatching the captain to gather the bodies from the scene of the accident, the Iron Guard went inside. The beautiful atrium was totally destroyed. Hattori’s meticulously tended garden had been torn to pieces and spread across the entire building. It filled Toru’s heart with sadness. Master Hattori had been very fond of this space. It had been his connection to their beloved homeland and favorite meditation area. The Heavy would die painfully for the sleight.

Hattori had been secured in one of the unadorned rooms. Guards had been posted to keep watch, and they bowed as he approached. Toru paused at the door to steel his resolve and found himself staring at the tetsubo in his hand. He could not comprehend the reasoning behind the Chairman’s command, but it was not the place for an Iron Guard to question his betters. The Chairman’s word was absolute law. Whether his transgressions were real or imaginary, Hattori still had to die for them.

However, Hattori had been a good teacher, a fierce warrior, and in his old age a cunning diplomat, always representing the Imperium with honor. He deserved better than to be clubbed down like some nuisance peasant. Surely the Chairman would understand, since his teachings centered on the importance of honoring the strong. Decision made, Toru returned to his quarters to retrieve a few items. When he returned, he was able to enter Hattori’s prison with head held high. This felt more like the correct path.

His teacher was kneeling on a mat, waiting patiently. Toru did not address him. Hattori looked Toru over, saw the sword he was carrying and understood. “So this is how it ends, then?”

“As the Chairman commands.”

“The thing you spoke to is not the Chairman . . . Okubo, my old friend, is dead.”

Toru did not believe him. The Chairman was immortal. Perhaps Hattori had gone mad.

Hattori let out a long breath. “Am I allowed an explanation for my actions?”

“I am not allowed to hear.”

“In the beginning, we fought the true Enemy. Then things changed . . . We changed. I fear that a false leader has taken control of the Imperium. I am afraid it is someone who does not understand what is truly at stake.”

“Please stop.”

“Very well. You always were a good student, Toru. I never had sons of my own. If I had, I’d have very much liked them to turn out like you.”

Toru gently placed the silk package on the floor in front of Hattori’s knees. “Know that I bear you no ill will. This way is better.”

Hattori opened the silk to reveal the tanto knife. “Thank you.” He seemed genuinely moved as he took up the blade and ran his thumb down the razor edge. “Would you be my second?”

Toru placed one hand on the wrapped hilt of the katana that had been presented to him upon achieving the rank of Iron Guard. “I would be honored.”

The ambassador removed his shirt and set it aside. His chest was covered in layers of markings. The oldest layer was the faded tattoos of his criminal upbringing, next were his Iron Guard kanji, bestowed by the Chairman’s Cogs, and the final layer was made of scars earned in countless battles on behalf of the Imperium. Hattori took the knife and placed the tip against this abdomen. “Please understand that I would never betray Okubo Tokugawa. I do not wish to be remembered as a traitor.”

Toru drew his sword and took it in both hands. “Of course.”

“I’m afraid you will understand what I speak of soon enough.”

Hattori shoved the knife deep into his guts. The muscles of his face did not so much as twitch as he dragged it through his flesh. Blood poured from the wound. When the blade had cut all the way across, Hattori shuddered, his shoulders slumped, and his hand dropped the tanto into the spreading pool of red. Toru raised his katana overhead.

“No . . . I think you should understand now.”

A spike of terrible agony ripped through Toru’s head. Hattori used up all of his considerable Power in one mighty burst. Toru stumbled back, holding his head in his hands. It felt as if his brains were about to boil out his ears. Streams of information, strange memories, new images . . . They were crashing about, trying to make a new home in Iron Guard Toru’s mind. “What have you done to me?”

“What . . . I had . . . to.” Hattori bowed his head. “Forgive me. I am finished.”

Already, his head had cleared. Toru moved in one fluid strike. It was considered shameful to remove the head completely from the body when serving as second, so he was careful to pull the stroke at the last instant, leaving just enough skin at the throat so that Hattori’s head did not fly off. Instead, it rolled neatly into the ambassador’s lap. The body remained kneeling as if in mediation.

It was a respectful end for a respected man.