sergeant pulled him behind the fence. One soldier tried to close the gate, but a couple of corpses caught him and pulled out into the mob, but another grunt managed to slam the gate closed even as several cadavers tried to get through.
"Fall back!" the platoon sergeant barked, pulling West with him. The marines complied, and the horde slammed into the fence. It held, swaying under the press of bodies, but everyone knew it would not hold for long.
Regaining his senses, he shook off his top sergeant. "Keep them at it; don't let those bloody zombies press too close."
"Yes, sir." But West didn't pay attention. He focused on Whateley and made a beeline towards him.
Before he could reach him, however, the self-proclaimed wizard made a final, spinning leap, threw his arms into the air, and shouted out a single word. West didn't catch it, but he doubted he would have understood it even if he had.
Whateley closed the book when he reached him. Despite its size, he took it from the marines and cradled it to his chest.
"Are you finished?" He put all the sarcasm he could muster into his tone.
Whateley turned to stare at him. That gaze did not intimidated him as it did others, but the old man did remind him of pictures he had seen of Charles Manson, except his hair and beard were dirty gray-blonde and his eyes were almost black.
"I have just completed the ritual, Lieutenant." His voice sounded strong despite his age and physical condition, and somewhat hypnotic.
"Good, because I really want to tear you apart right now."
"With help so soon on the way?"
"Damn you, we're about to be overrun. We're trapped, with no escape. And I just lost several good men, including Sgt. Summers."
Whateley's expression did not change, but his voice did manage to sound mournful. "A pity; my friends would have loved to make her acquaintance. Oh, well, you have a number of other females that will do as well."
From "The Jigsaw Dragon"
Eile Chica crouched behind one of the pylons at the foot of the stairs. She turned her head to shield her face from a tongue of fire that lanced past her hiding place.
"Are you ready?"
Eile glanced across the causeway. White-Lion was hunkered down behind the opposite pylon.
"Yeah, as ready as I'll ever be."
Another gout of flame interrupted them.
"Okay, on three," White-Lion said after the fire dissipated. "One, two, three! Let's go, partner!"
She rose and dashed out onto the first step as Eile watched. Looking up the stairs, she held out her staff and shouted, "Halon!" A milky-white, concave shield appeared in front and slightly above her. A stream of fire shot down from the top of the stairs. It hit the shield square in the center, but instead of penetrating, the flames spread out along its surface and flickered off the edges.
White-Lion gestured. "Come on!"
Eile ran up behind her, trying to keep low. Together they advanced up the stairs, while the fire covered the shield.
Eile couldn't see anything through the flame, but as they climbed she saw the shield go from white to yellow to orange. Her stomach knotted in cold fear; she expected it to collapse at any moment. If that happened, they would be incinerated to char before they even felt the heat.
It seemed to take forever to reach the top of the steps, as the shield turned a dull red and then glowed a molten cherry. Finally, White-Lion came to a stop. She pulled her staff back; the shield retreated towards her and turned to orange as cracks began to appear. Eile broke out in a cold sweat and her mouth dried up. If this doesn't work..., she thought
"Kii-yaaah!" White-Lion threw the staff forward. The shield jumped away from them and rammed the source of the flame. It shattered and dissolved, but it extinguished the fire as it threw a figure back.
"Go!!"
Eile charged around White-Lion, up the last few steps, and between two more pylons.
She lifting her broadsword and roared. "Rrraaauuugh!" The figure recovered and threw itself at her. It had a body like a cross between a velociraptor and a dragon, including sickle foot claws and a long, sinuous tail, but minus the wings. The head, however, looked like that of a milk-skinned, sable-haired woman with ice-blue eyes.
The dragon-lady got in the first blows, leaping up and raking at Eile with its claws. She parried the hands, but the sickle-claws skidded over her breastplate and the steel scales covering her belly. She danced back then sprinted forward, swinging her sword. The dragon-lady blocked the short, wide, thin blade with its arms as it raised its tail. She saw it had a spike on the end, and her opponent held it poised as it looked for an opportunity to strike.
Cripes, this is like fighting five people at once! "I don't know how long I can hold her off. Move!"
"Right!" she heard White-Lion say, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a streak of gamboge hair move around the outside of the pylons to get to the plateau behind.
Sunny Hiver paused after she clambered over the edge of the plateau and stood up. Looking back, she watched as Braveheart and the dragon-lady struck and parried, slashed and blocked, while they waited for an opening to deliver a crippling blow. Braveheart wore a furious expression of intense concentration, though the vivid fuchsia locks that framed her face made her appear comical. Her long ponytail of seal-brown hair waving like a flag didn't help either.
"Dammit, White-Lion, go, go!"
Sunny turned and jogged further onto the plateau as she searched for their quarry. It was as big as a gymnasium, and sheer granite cliffs enclosed three sides. At the far end, she spotted something, and sprinted towards it. As she got closer, it resolved into a female form, dressed in a simple gown, tied up with a bag over her head.
She broke into a run and reached the captive in seconds. Pulling her slim dagger out of her belt, she squatted and reached out to touch the woman on the arm. She jerked and cried out.
"It's okay, I'm a friend. You're safe now; Team Girl is here to rescue you!" And she cut the woman's bonds.
"What?" Her voice came muffled from under the bag.
"White-Lionnn!! Look out!"
She pivoted on the balls of her feet and looked back. The dragon-lady charged her, screaming like a banshee, while Braveheart raced after it trying to catch up.
Sunny squealed as she stood and raised her dagger to defend herself, but she knew she stood no chance against it, and she didn't have time to use magic.
Just as the dragon-lady reached her, Braveheart put on an extra burst of speed and took a flying leap. As the monster paused and made ready to kick its sickle-claws, she landed on its back and wrapped her arms and legs around its body. The dragon-lady jumped, bucked, spun, cavorted, and danced as it tried to dislodge her; somehow, she managed to hold onto her sword. The dragon-lady raised its tail and jabbed at the back of her head, but missed, and she grabbed a hold of the spike.
Sunny picked up her staff and ran towards the pair, but she slowed as she got close. She didn't know what to do. If she used magic, it would affect Braveheart as well as the monster, and if she tried to hit the latter with her staff, she might miss and hit her partner instead. But she knew she had to do something. The dragon-lady clawed at Braveheart's arms and thighs. So far, it hadn't gotten through the leather unitard, but eventually it would. It also clawed at her head, but she managed to avoid being scratched, and she bit at the fingers when they got too close.
Then Sunny saw her opening: the dragon-lady's legs were exposed. She rushed closer and whacked its knees with the staff. It stumbled, but righted itself before it fell, then turned and tried to jump to claw her with its sickle-claws, but with Braveheart on its back it couldn't get high enough, and it moved in a clumsy manner. Sunny avoided the claws and pivoted around to its side. She slid the staff between its legs, jamming the other end against the rock floor, and when the dragon-lady landed, she twisted the staff using the grounded end as a fulcrum. The monster tripped, lost its balance, and fell flat on its face. Braveheart rose up and slammed the pommel of her sword into the back of the
dragon-lady's head, and it slumped unconscious.
From "Fun 'n' Games"
Sir Differel Van Helsing sat at her desk, filling out another in the endless series of reports she submitted to the Privy Council, when Aelfraed entered with a food tray. She glanced up at him and went back to writing, oblivious to everything except trying to explain a request for more personnel, so it took a few moments for the shilling to drop. When it did, she snapped her head up in wide, pop-eyed shock as her heart stammered.
He wore the costume of a BDSM submissive, what little of it there was.
"What the bloody hell is this?!"
He didn't bat an eye. "Your lunch, Madam." He placed the tray down in front of her, on top of her report, neither of which was appropriate.
She raised an eyebrow, exasperated. "No, I mean your attire."
"Ah, yes, of course, I image that would seem strange. The staff had a meeting this morning and we voted on a change of uniforms."
She frowned, irritated. "Without consulting me?" Then she realized how ridiculous it sounded to be upset about that rather than the result.
"My apologies, My Lady, but it was an emergency. We also came to the consensus that we were entitled to a daily orgy."
She just about had a heart attack. "Orgy?!"
"Yes, My Lady. In fact, today's has already started and I am