SNAFU: Survival of the Fittest

As vanished Babylon and goodly Tyre

So shall they also vanish

But the wilding rose blows on the broken battlements of Tyre

And moss rends the stones of Babylon

Both the boys had pulled automatic pistols from somewhere. They stopped for a moment, then spied movement in the woods. The oldest boy ran toward it and fired. Burgess returned fire with the shotgun, catching the kid full in the chest.

I’d already begun moving and as the remaining son aimed his pistol, I came up behind him, touched the base of his spine, and sent him into a dreamless sleep. He fell to the ground. I disarmed him and pocketed his pistol.

I heard the rumbling of vehicle engines. I sent Burgess around to the other side of the camp and returned to the place I’d just left. Two trucks came into view. Each looked as if it held eight guards — two in front and six in the back. The men I could see carried M16s and were in a civilianized version of military gear. They must have already been on their way, alerted by me tripping the wards.

The girl — small of stature, blond hair, blue eyes, and no more than a hundred pounds — ran forward and waved a single hand in the air, barking in Aramaic.

The first truck went flying, then hit the ground tumbling, throwing guards from it like a cyclone throwing twigs asunder.

I was stunned by the demonstration of power and from such a young woman too. She must have some inherent ability.

I watched her back away as the second truck skidded to a stop. Men poured out of it and made a picket line as they raised their rifles.

Just then a dark figure moved behind them, almost faster than I could see. Blood spurted in his wake and all eight men fell dead to the forest floor. I tried to follow his movement but lost him in the darkness between the trees.

Rehor was here!

Fools!

Fools!

Fools!

When will ye learn

That me ye cannot slay?

Year after year ye burn me in this grove

Lifting your puny shouts of triumph to the stars.

Then there was a pause in the ceremony as screams merged with laughter, then merged with more screams. Whatever was going on, it seemed like an interruption of some sort.

I felt a tingling and turned just in time to see the young witch level her gaze upon me. As I was about to frame a defensive spell, a wave of nausea hit me so hard that it drove me to my knees. Vomit spewed from my mouth onto the leaf and twig covered ground. I heaved once, then twice, my back arching like a cat’s.

Instead of coming at me, she began backing away. It told that although she was powerful, there was a limit to her power and she was close to reaching it. My guess was the grand display with the truck had sapped most of it.

I staggered to my feet.

Across the yard, I saw the father draw and fire his pistol in one smooth move.

Burgess, who’d been sneaking between two cottages, grabbed his chest and went down.

The father moved toward the spot where Burgess was lying.

I felt a wave of fear for the kid rush through me. I needed to help as soon as I could. My nausea was gone. Her spell was formidable, but not as bad as the one attached to the ward back at their place of business. That one had to have been put in place by Rehor and I needed to save my magical energy for him.

I felt the next spell coming and gritted my teeth in anticipation. Then I tripped and fell. I got up, took two steps and fell again. Seriously? A Tripping Spell? Now that was juvenile.

She’d moved to the center of the yard and leaned heavily on the table. I could see her chest heaving.

I managed to stay on my feet the next time the spell tried to frame around me.

I was ten feet from her when she cast a Slow Spell. I waved that one away, lurched forward to her, then touched her in the center of the head, which sent her to sleepy time with her other brother.

Which reminded me, where was the youngest boy?

I turned as a scream came from behind me.

It was the boy, running out of the back of the truck with a baseball bat. I waited until he was almost in range, then stepped forward and cold-cocked him. He fell backwards. The bat went flying. Blood seeped from his nose, which was good enough because I hated it when I had to kill kids.

I was finally able to turn to Burgess, but he’d somehow managed to get to his feet and was fighting hand to hand with the father, which was no easy task once it became clear by his odd movements that his left arm wasn’t working right.

The Cremation of Care Ceremony had resumed and now took on an even darker tone. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but the air was abuzz with a strange power I’d never kenned before.