[Demonworld #2] The Pig Devils Page 2

  Finally he checked his mail. Garbage, garbage, garbage. Then:

  Haven Mail Forum

  From: Seloid Cramer, Secretary to Prime Minister Aegis Vachs

  To: R. Wodan Kyner

  Subject: Invitation!

  You are cordially invited to a grand banquet to be held in honor of the survivor of the recent and unfortunate abduction and also for the brave men and women who returned him to us. Guest list includes leaders of government, military, academia and business. This casual-dress affair to be held at the posh Never Pavlov in the Ministerial Sector.

  Details include...

  Strange wording, he thought. Obviously a mass-mailing.

  As far as Wodan was concerned, it was time to party.

  * * *

  The training lasted one year. They were trained as snipers, how to stalk about the field invisible and silent, how to mesh with the environment, how to watch a human from the corner of the eye so as not to draw his attention, how to track man or animal, how to sit quietly for days when waiting for a shot, how to use the great .50 caliber rifle that could knock a fist-sized hole in an engine block, and how to put a tight group of lead into a moving target. They were trained as urban assault units, how to blend in by day and disappear by night, how to climb a building and rappel down it in seconds, how to cover a room and secure it, how to clean out a corridor without hitting a comrade, how to signal in the secret battle-language. They were drilled to master the techniques of close-quarters combat, how to disarm a foe, how to fight using a knife, a steel baton, a handgun, how to shatter ribs and twist joints and hit nerves and open throats as quietly as possible. They were taught to pilot all manner of boats and use underwater equipment, to arm and disarm all manner of explosive, to treat wounds, to make and unmake poisons, to fall from great heights and open a parachute at the last possible moment. They were taught to be masters of the art of war.

  They stood in a dark chamber beneath the Guardian training grounds. They wore black robes and tight masks. Torches lit the black room. Yarek was at the head, for he had proven himself the most able of them all. A group of men in red robes lined with fur entered from a concealed door. “Kneel,” said one. His voice was distorted by some machine. The trainees knelt.

  “Haven is the last,” said another distorted voice. “The only bright spot in a world completely covered in darkness. Her people are the only people in the world not given over to dementia, hopelessness, nihilism, barbarism. Haven must be protected at all costs.”

  Another voice spoke. “There is a true devil in this world. He is a wolf. He does not yet know about Haven. But there will come a day when he must be fought. And it takes a killer to fight a killer.”

  Another voice said, “In ages past the Reavers fought to defend humanity. They were nameless, powerful warriors, and we owe our lives to them. We are in dark times. It is time the Reavers rose again.”

  “Take these vows!” None could tell which robed man spoke, but it seemed to Yarek that the largest among them, one who had the body of his own father, seemed to swell and shake with these words. “Swear that you will follow the orders given by the Head of the Order of the Guardians of Haven! His orders - and only his! Swear that you will fight any devil, or those that give aid to devils, to your last and dying breath!”

  “We swear it!” shouted the Reavers.

  “Swear that you will defend the land of Haven, spreading death to any that would harm Her!”

  “We swear it!”

  “Now take up the armor of the Resurrected Order of Reavers.”

  They disrobed and put on their armor. Gone were the old uniforms, the shining white plastic armor with blue and yellow highlights. The Reavers wore dull black armor with form-fitting black knit cloth underneath. Their helmets were sheer jet such that no man’s features were distinguishable beneath the faceplate. There were no markings of rank save the red patch on Yarek’s breast, for he was Commander of the Reavers.

  The last distorted voice spoke again. “And swear that you will hold true to the values of the men who founded this land... even if it means the overthrow of those who call themselves Her rulers.”

  “We swear it!” they said, and the words echoed sharp and cold.

  * * *

  Five Weeks Ago.

  Luumis pounded down cold food in Darel’s apartment. Staring ahead, intent, growling. Luumis looked like an animated skeleton topped with a wig made from dead rats. Darel watched him, bug-eyed, shaking his head. The apartment was warm and bright. Rich carpet, fine wood-paneled walls, but covered in filthy dishes and ash trays and clothes and empty bottles and drug paraphernalia and posters for various bands. Darel’s clothes were a mismatched patchwork of carefully practiced neglect, but his dark hair was cut evenly and his shoes were slick with polish. The monitor of Darel’s computer showed two people having sex Can Opener-style.

  “This is intense,” said Darel. “I thought you were dead for sure.”

  “Can’t die, can’t be killed,” Luumis growled through his food. Then his eyes stabbed into Darel, and he said, “You knew I went hiking. Why did you think the Earth would kill me?”

  “I mean, I thought the Guardians got you for sure,” said Darel. “You gotta pay me back for all that food, by the way.”

  “Haven’t eaten in three days.”

  “A little’s okay, but you’ve eaten a lot.”

  “You know I’m good for it.”

  Darel actually did not know this. Luumis stared at Darel as he forced in one last gob of greasy bread, then leaned over on the counter as he was overcome with dizziness. Sometimes he could not believe the pettiness of his brothers in the sacred Chaos Consortium, the underground movement dedicated to toppling the police-state in which they were imprisoned - the state which would, if it were not stopped soon, pollute and destroy this last bit of good green Earth. Luumis tried to say just this to his friend, but he only mumbled from exhaustion.

  “What’s that?” said Darel.

  Luumis raised his head and stabbed Darel with his bloodshot eyes. “Why didn’t you call anyone or have anyone come and look for me?!”

  “We thought you got taken out ’cause they found out you were part of the rebellion.”

  “So? What if I’d died?”

  “Well, we had to assume that you were dead,” said Darel. “We have to accept that there will be casualties in this war.”

  “I’ll make you a casualty, you punk bitch!” said Luumis. He put his head down again, then raised it up sharply. “Wait, you guys didn’t replace me, did you?”

  “No. Nobody really wants to be secretary for the meetings.” Darel thought for a moment, then said, “Hey, I thought you said you couldn’t die-”

  “Listen, I haven’t always been immortal, I just was at the end, and I am now because - ah, I gotta sit down, this is a long story. Where’s Michonardo?”

  “Our fearless leader?” said Darel. “I bet him ten dollars he wouldn’t take a hit from the newest bong I just engineered. He’s passed out more than I’ve ever seen anybody be passed out before, ever, so I’m hoping he won’t remember the ten dollars.”

  “I might need to borrow that ten from you,” said Luumis.

  “You know you missed the mythophilosophy final exam,” said Darel, looking from side to side.

  “Professor Matri can suck it as far as I’m concerned,” said Luumis. “Come on.”

  They went into the main room and cleared off some couches to sit on. A young man that everyone called Merlin was there, shaking off crystals from a giant wad of brownleaf and dividing the stuff into smaller bags for distribution to his dealers.

  “So, three days ago,” said Luumis, “I went hiking in the woods.”

  “West or north?” said Merlin, not taking his eyes from the brownleaf.

  “Far west,” said Luumis.

  “That’s no pussy shit. I done that.”

  “Toward the end of the first day I was climbing down this hill. A bunch of rocks came loose and I rolled down
the whole thing, probably hundreds of feet. Fell in a deep-ass ravine. I was knocked out. When I came to, I had this giant rock on my leg. It completely pinned me down.”

  “A boulder on your leg?” said Darel, slowly, eyeing Luumis’s legs.

  Luumis’s hand darted forward and yanked up his pants leg. The left leg was indeed covered in one massive black bruise with a hundred yellow and purple tracers around it. Darel averted his eyes.

  “I was trapped,” Luumis growled. “And with no food or water-”

  “You went hiking without any supplies?” said Darel.

  “Stop interrupting! Besides... I didn’t need any supplies. Nature had other plans for me.”

  Darel laid back and Merlin raised one eye to Luumis. He continued. “That night I could see a narrow strip of skyline at the top of the ravine. I could even see the stars, great clusters of them. It got cold, but my hands were free so I covered myself in dirt and leaves. I would have slept better that night than I ever had before, because there were no humming machines around to distract me. Would have, except it was terribly cold, even with my dirt blanket. When I woke up my head was splitting because I was so thirsty, but luckily I had dug a small hole beside myself in order to get the materials for my dirt blanket. There was a little water at the bottom. I was able to dig more such holes... not as many as I would have wanted, but at least as many as I needed.”

  While Luumis succumbed to a coughing fit, Merlin said, “Mother Earth provides, bro.”

  “Damn straight,” said Luumis, wheezing. “I was there for three days, believe it or not.”

  “I don’t believe it!” said Darel.

  “Believe it!” barked Luumis. “At the time, I had no idea how long I was there. When you’re napping from boredom and not getting any food... it’s like my mind was breaking down. I thought I was going crazy. And the average person would say that I was crazy, considering what happened next.”

  He laid down on the couch and took a long time in getting comfortable - not in order to be comfortable, but in order to annoy Darel, who was twitching in anticipation. Eventually he continued. “Near dawn on the last day I was there, some... thing was in the ravine with me. Crouching over me. At first I thought it had crawled in there very quietly. Then I got the notion that it had been in there with me the whole time, watching and waiting, and that idea nearly drove me over the edge. I screamed until my throat gave out. I nearly ripped my leg off trying to get out. When I was too exhausted to be afraid anymore, I looked at the thing. It was dark in there, but I could see its outline. It looked like a man. But not quite a man. It was very hairy, hairy all over. It was crouching over me, so I couldn’t quite see its legs. They seemed misshapen somehow. It was very strong, very muscular.

  “I heard a voice. I thought that the thing was speaking to me, but I couldn’t see the outline of its mouth moving. It sounded familiar. I realized that the voice had always been speaking... we, all of us, have only lost the ability to hear it. The Voice comes from all over. From the trees, from the rocks, from all life that is a part of nature.”

  “What did it say?” said Darel.

  “I can’t remember the particulars. It... doesn’t use a voice like we do. The Voice did not say literal words, only left me with general ideas, notions, images, feelings. The Voice told me that the thing crouching over me was the Lord of the Hunt, and that I was worthy to meet him. Though it was dark there, I saw that the thing had horns. It seemed like they blinked in and out of existence... but I could see them. Long, curving, thick, segmented. They were huge. This thing, the Lord of the Hunt, was like a hand or a champion of the Voice. And it told me that I was to be another of its champions. An apprentice to the Lord of the Hunt.”

  “And what will you do as its apprentice,” said Darel, turning the word into a sneer.

  “Hunt,” said Luumis. “The Voice gave me a warning, Darel, and I’d like to give it to you too, so you don’t turn into one more casualty when the whole world comes to an end pretty soon. Wanna hear it? Or are you too busy watching televised infomercials created by a corrupt military-industrial complex designed to keep you complacent?”

  “Hell...” said Darel.

  “We’re listening, man,” said Merlin.

  “The Voice told me,” said Luumis, “that I’m supposed to strike back at the system of oppression that we’ve been living in for generations. All the crap we’ve been doing like painting our own transmissions over commercials, hacking into government files, distributing pamphlets about the abuse of animals by the DoS/DoR, even that time we hijacked the lumber machines awhile back - it’s nothing compared to the next level I’m going to take things to. Years ago people found this land, and it was the last bit of good green Earth left, and we’re destroying it. I have to teach people that when they strike against the Earth, Mother Nature strikes back. People are going to see my actions and wake up from their slumber, their decadence, their wastefulness, and return to balance with the Earth. When I get the attention of the DoS, they’re going to find out that they can’t continue scheming up new ways to exploit the Earth. They’re perverting life itself. Our pamphlets and pirate transmissions aren’t going to stop them. I am. The Entertainers have been distracting us with an empty culture; it was their job to give us culture, to give us meaning. They gave us nothing, but I will. I will teach people their place in this world. I will hunt down oppression. The Voice has told me that I am immortal. The worst that can happen to me is that the government can imprison me, even torture me, but even then I will be able to use my imprisonment as an opportunity to speak to the most powerful, most evil men and give them one last warning before they destroy themselves - and that warning is that they cannot use their powers to oppress the weak, but only to protect the Earth. And if they do not do that, they will be destroyed when the end comes. And come it will.”

  “Woah,” said Merlin. Even Darel had never seen such fanaticism from Luumis, or from anyone in the Chaos Consortium. He stood silent.

  Luumis continued. “Before the Voice was done with me, the Lord of the Hunt got right in my face, and I saw then that he had the face of a wolf. He is a wolf and he told me that I am a wolf, too, a lone wolf, and it is my job to find the moneychangers and the unbelievers and to scatter them, utterly, until there is only destruction and goodness left.”

  “There are no wolves on the island of Haven,” said Merlin, quietly. “They were wiped out when the humans came.”

  “That’s right,” said Luumis. “Wiped out, just like humans wipe out everything they touch. Humans left a vacuum where, before, there was life and goodness. But, my friend, Nature always balances itself out.”

  “That’s heavy,” said Merlin.

  Luumis coughed again. He was very sick from his ordeal. All of his mucus membranes burned in their own terrible way. He sank into the soft couch. “In the end,” he said, “this island will be a place of love. Unconditional love, which is really the only law of the universe. We could all learn a lesson from the outside world. To live in harmony with the good Earth, to limit ourselves, so that life can sustain itself.”

  Merlin nodded slowly, lowering his head.

  “I felt the Earth shake,” said Luumis, his voice trailing off. “I passed out. When I woke, the stone had rolled away from my leg. I got up with a new purpose. Unconditional love, my friends. The unity of all things. There are no differences among any of us. We are one. And if we fight to the death for this, our intention will be our salvation.”

  * * *

  Now, Tonight.

  Korliss rested in his bed. He was spent. He could hear someone singing in the streets below. The tension was gone; it returned in full force within a few moments. His muscles tightened and he groaned. He looked over at Mevrik lying beside him. She was relaxed, even smiling. He ran his hand lightly through her short hair. She did not respond. He gripped her hair, said, “Don’t fall asleep.”

  She slapped his hand away playfully, but even still he winced at the great strength she possess
ed. They lay together for a while, wrapped in silk. Mevrik played her fingers across Korliss’s back. It felt terribly wrong. His breathing was labored.

  “Go on and get it out of you,” she said quietly.

  “I don’t know where to start,” he said.

  “Pretend you never stopped and just pick up from there.”

  “I was thinking about a student of mine,” he said. “He said something... about Haven... I don’t want to talk about this. I need distraction. Tell me about flying again.”

  He felt her reluctance through his hands.

  “I need distraction,” he whispered.

  She thought for a moment. “Last week was the closest to any real danger I’ve ever been,” she said. “When we flew on top of those outlanders and scattered them. When we picked up the exile.”

  “Can’t believe you brought him up,” he said, laughing dryly.

  “You wanted into Pandora’s box, didn’t you?” she said. “Too late to shut it now. Anyway, he was completely soaked, just covered in blood. I thought he looked like a savage.”

  “Did you think he was one of them?”

  “Not for a second. The others were running around like idiots. Even those outlanders that we saved were pretty shell-shocked. Which is understandable. But not him. That little boy carried himself with...”