The Siege Against Tolkeen

Tucson sat by his fire, feeling quite pleased with himself. The lizard which he had caught for his supper was roasting on a skewer (actually an old dagger), and was almost ready to eat. He had found a superb home for himself in the subterranean abandoned tube car lot. His new "house" was a techno-wizard subway car which had derailed and shattered its energy matrix. Unfortunately, since it had no electricity, the elf had been forced to create his own heating and light system. A handful of candles scattered around the room had done well for illumination, and a wastebasket full of old newspapers lit aflame was warming him nicely.

Suddenly, a distant growling broke the perfect tranquillity of the moment. Tucson glanced at the ancient, pre-Rifts revolver in his open backpack. The weapon gave him a sense of security, although it wouldn't do a thing against many of the ghouls and vampires known to haunt the subway and sewer systems. For those, Tucson thought, I will just have to rely on what I know best. Noticing that one of his candles had gone out, the elf snapped his fingers, and caused it to flare up, even brighter and hotter than before.

A few minutes later, he noticed that the flesh of the cooking lizard was nicely browned and was actually beginning to burn a little bit. Anxious to save his dinner, he reached into the fire, and pulled the meat off of his dagger. He took a small bite, and found the flesh a little bit too tangy and tough for his tastes. Still, realizing that it beat no dinner at all, he continued to devour the dead reptile.

He had only taken another few bites, when his mouth began to sting and ache. Gingerly rubbing his slightly swollen tongue, he began to look the creature over. Although his knowledge of biology was limited, he could tell that its species was clearly not native to Earth, or any other world he had visited. No, the lousy thing was a minor creature of magic! Running his fingers along its blackened spine, he could just barely make out tiny blue sparks of stored magical energy pop out.

"Is there nothing in this reeking city which isn't magical?" grumbled the elf, tossing the half-eaten creature back into the fire, where at least it could serve as fuel. "A guy can't even get a half-decent meal without electrocuting his mouth."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said a deep, grating voice from behind him. "I think the food here is quite tasty."

In one fluid movement, the elf spun around and grabbed the handgun from his bag, pointing it at the intruder. "Who the hell are you, buddy?" spat Tucson.

Before him stood a tall, pale young man with strange yellow eyes and jet black hair. The intruder was dressed in the most immaculate clothing, with a leather overcoat, a designer suit, power tie, and a pair of the finest shoes Tucson had ever seen. He smiled slightly at the elf's outburst.

"It's quite simple," he replied. "I am Arthuro, the lord of these tunnels. You are trespassing. And by my laws, that makes you, and everything you own, my property."

"Fuck off, preppie," growled Tucson. The stranger gave him the creeps, and he wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible. "My law says get out of my tube or eat leaden death."

Arthuro opened his mouth, and suddenly his canine teeth began to warp and elongate into a pair of long, viciously sharp fangs. "Don't worry," he muttered. "I don't want much, just a sip or two of your blood. A mouthful less won't kill you."

"Shut your word-hole!" screamed Tucson, trying to sound as confidant as possible, even though in his heart he was scared half to death. He aimed directly over the vampire's heart, and fired three times, each shot filling the abandoned car with gunsmoke. The three bullets pounded into the vampire's flesh, but did not pierce the skin. Grinning widely, the monster reached down, and picked up the three slugs, which lay at the ground by its feet.

"Are you going to waste any more ammunition or can I have your blood? Just a taste is all I want from you."

Tucson, trembling like a frightened schoolgirl, tossed the pistol out one of the tube's open windows, as it would be useless to him but very handy to the vampire. Then, reaching deep into the dark corners of his mind, he activated the mind-fires, and wrapped them around his body.

Arthuro fell back, covering his face with his hands, as the elf burst into flames. The vampire looked up once the brightness had subsided, expecting to see the vagabond a charred husk. Instead, he saw Tucson, perfectly healthy, yet burning like a torch. "You're a burster," hissed the vampire.

"Yes," laughed Tucson with a forced bravado. "Fire can burn even your unholy flesh. So begone, before I attack you."

The vampire laughed, and retracted his fangs. "You know that if we were to fight, I would win easily," he said softly. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," admitted Tucson.

"Very well. You may keep your wretched blood. But I will require a favor of you, if I am to let you stay in my tunnels. Any other vagrants or drifters that you see in this area, tell them to go into the shack under twenty-ninth street. That is my dwelling place. It is where I feed, although I usually do not kill my victims. Dead men don't bleed."

The elf nodded grimly.

"Good," said Arthuro. "And every week, I shall demand a housing tax of twenty percent of your income. If not for that steady inflow of money from the vagrants under my rule, I would be unable to acquit myself in the manner in which I am accustomed."

"You'll get your money."

"I'd better. I'll know if you've been holding out on me. Oh, and one more thing. "Don't try to tell the police or any self-styled "demon hunters" the location of my house. I've prepared well for such a contingency, so don't delude yourself into thinking that a silly little mortal like yourself can stop me."

With that, the vampire exploded into dark, greyish mist, and flew out of the tube car through an open window. A moment later, Tucson's handgun floated back through the window and into the elf's hands, suspended on a thick tendril of mist.

"Thanks," muttered the elf grudgingly, and then tried to fall asleep in a corner. His efforts were in vain.

"This is the Stealth Cycle version 4.5," announced the intelligence operative proudly, pointing to the vehicle on the landing pad before him. The bike was an odd-looking piece of equipment, consisting of a black mass of metal in various angles, two triangular wings, and twin nose-mounted, octagonal lasers.

"Weird looking," commented Jack. "Why's it have all the funny angles?"

"Stealth technology," said the officer, rather irritably. "It can't have any curves or 90 degree angles to keep radar from picking it up."

"Where do I sit?" asked Jack. "I don't see any seat or handlebars."

The officer pushed a small button on one of the wings. The top half of the bike swung upwards, with a hiss of hydraulics. Inside was a typical cockpit, with a video screen replacing a windshield. "There are several hidden videocams on the cycle which feed into this screen. You can see what's in front of you, behind you, underneath you, over you, or to your sides. And you can get up to 200x magnification. Or if you want you can break up the images into boxes to see several at once. You'll be shown how to use it to maximum potential."

Jack nodded, visibly impressed. "What about armor and weapons? I might run into trouble up there."

"There's two light laser cannons, but they don't have real stopping power. Also, their fighters, their power armor, and their personal armor are all enchanted with spells which make them invulnerable to energy. These lasers are primarily for defense, to distract the enemy just long enough to get you out of the fight. As for armor, well, this bike is made out of a special material which absorbs some types of energy. That's to avoid electronic detection. But the material's a tad more brittle than most armor, so you won't last long in a stand-up fight."

"How fast can this thing go? Sounds like I'll have to be running a lot."

"Up to 550 miles per hour. And the handling's pretty good, too."

"Sounds good. Are the coordinates already in the computer?"

"Yes they are. You just have to fly over the right place at no more than 1000 feet, and the bike will automatically take the pictures."

"One last question. Any idea what they've got flying air defense up there?"

"Mostly minor air elementals. But the elementals are just there in order to sound warnings, and to track intruders. Once the word's got out, a couple of TW fighter planes are sent in. The fighters aren't so tough, but they're fast and maneuverable."

There had been 43 words in the officers response. But Jack had heard only one. That word was "elementals."

"I'll be sure to say hi from Elizabeth," said Perrin under his breath.

Next Chapter

By David Haendler.

Copyright © 1996, 1997, 1998 David Haendler. All Rights Reserved.