Chapter 14: The Heirs of Pyrrhus

March, 1994

The American football season ended almost two months ago and the field inside Robert F. Kennedy Stadium was covered with a tarp until training camp, or the next rock concert. That tarp had been pulled back and now was in an untidy, snow-covered heap along the right wall of the stadium leading up to the stands. The stadium seats were slowly disappearing under a thick blanket of snow and there were sheets of what looked like chain mail covering the windows of the luxury and press boxes. Poles had been driven into the sidelines at five yard intervals and were topped with torches that flared and guttered flames, reaching a foot in the air, dancing sinuously on what breeze came through the magical arch. The torches, and their reflection off the deepening snow, gave enough light to see the surreal group of figures gathered on the far twenty-five yard line.

Rafael von Feldberg stood in the center with a group clustered around him that looked human enough. I, however, was working under the assumption that they were Vampires. Each of them wore some form of armor, even if it was just a leather jerkin with metal plates sewn to it, and wielded a blade of one form or another. Von Feldberg wore a gold inlaid cuirass and steel greaves over his thigh-high leather boots. A sabre hung from his belt, his left hand wrapped in a gauntlet resting on the pommel. Hanging from the other metal-encased hand was an elaborately engraved and fiercely visored helm.

To either side of the cluster of Vampires was a restless, snow-dusted pack of ten Werewolves with all the various colors of fur normal wolves had. They were all in their half-man, half-wolf forms, were all well over six feet tall, and all growled at the sight of my crew and me. Given how balefully they seemed to glare at me, they may have just been growling at me. Behind the Vampires, three dark brown-furred bears reared up at the growling, each easily standing over ten feet tall. I was going to assume the massive grizzly bears were also Weres given their size.

Sitting in a lotus position on the snowy turf to the right of Feldberg’s group, dressed in ratty-looking sweats and an Army bush jacket that had seen better days was a plain, mild-mannered-looking young man who appeared to be in his early to mid-twenties. He had wild-looking brown hair down to his shoulders and tanned skin that, at the tail end of winter, suggested ancestry other than European. His slightly almondine eyes were closed and he looked like he was peacefully meditating.

On the other side of the group was something that made me wish I had a giant shoe. It had the body of an eight-foot wide spider and the torso and fanged head of a female human where a spider’s eyes would have been. That human head, topped with long silky black hair framing a ghostly pale face, had two large, completely black eyes surrounded by a half dozen smaller black eyes. There was a leather sash around the torso from which hung weapons and leather pouches.

“Djiein,” Andre whispered when I came to a stop at seeing the thing. “Iroquois monster.”

“Seneca Tribe, to be specific,” Mack added grimly. “Can be found in the wilderness all over the northeastern U. S. and southeastern Canada. They are fast, strong, and immune to most magicks.”

After the spider monster, the almost human-looking Goblins roaming around the periphery of von Feldberg’s quarter of the stadium were easy to take in, with their green skin, pointed ears, and slit-pupilled eyes glowing red. Most of them were armed with bows and quivers of black-fletched arrows, long daggers hanging from their belts. Most also wore chain mail. In the far end zone were four Trolls. Their large, rough-hewn bodies were thudding off of each other as if they were slam dancing to some thrash metal band only they could hear. They each carried massive battle-axes I could feel buzzing against whatever sense allowed me to feel magic. They had pale, pale brown skin that looked a lot like elephant or rhino skin. Thick and almost like armor. Their faces were human-like only in that they had roughly the same features located at roughly the same places on their massive, lumpy skulls as humans. However, even if they weren’t twice as big as the guys in my crew, nobody would ever have mistaken them for humans. They were too ... unfinished? I guess that is the closest word for it. They looked like someone tried to make human statues out of clay and either didn’t finish or were really crappy sculptors. At the growling of the Werewolves, the Trolls stopped and shambled forward to stand with the Werebears. Their large, completely red eyes studied us carefully.

I continued our march downfield, my crew following a couple of steps behind, stopping at the thirty yard line. Von Feldberg’s ... people and mine watched each other suspiciously. I took a couple more steps forward and von Feldberg did the same.

“I am pleased you could make it, Dame Alice,” he proclaimed, truly looking relieved. “I had a contingency for it if you did not, but it would not have been nearly as good as having you and your knights ally me this night. Thank you.”

I shrugged, grinning. “I have been cooped up for weeks and I would lay serious quid on Valera being the one to blame for that,” I replied, my ire at the enforced sequestration coloring my tone. “Besides, I don’t like how his people operate. I have no such complaints about your people thus far.”

He grinned, dainty fangs slipping into view. “And I will make sure I do not give you reason to rethink your partisanship. Lars was right to advise me as he did,” he said fervently, making some of the Vampires behind him look at each other with speculative expressions. I noticed a smell that was part musky, part sickly sweet, and part musty right before he continued, saying, “I-looks like Hazael has finally cleared Herr Guerra de Sangrecito.” He was looking intently over my head, his eyes narrowing.

I turned and did my best to not show my chagrin. The smell was coming on the breeze from the arch behind what sauntered toward us. Andre sidled up to me and began briefing me on what he was seeing as Valera’s posse walked down the field. At the center of the small army walking towards us behind a once-again human-looking Hazael was Angel Diego Valera y Guerra de Sangrecito and a dozen other Vampires, matching von Feldberg’s numbers exactly. Valera was a swarthy European with aquiline nose, sculpted and manly facial features that were clean-shaven, full lips that managed not to be pouty, and shoulder-length hair that was glossy black and carelessly brushed back with a slight wave to it. He wore a conquistador’s armor with a sabre belted to his thin waist and a horsehair-crested helm in one hand. That noble face clouded when his eyes lit on me.

He muttered something to the shorter figure next to him who was definitely not a Vampire. It wore an odd assortment of armor, from the samurai-like helm with a fierce face mask and scale mail aventail to the conquistador cuirass to a set of grieves that seemed to be made of the rib bones of some medium-sized animal. I was pretty sure I knew who was behind the mask and it was confirmed when Anachta Moctezinna took off the helm to smile wickedly at him, making him frown. In her right hand the Aztec-looking woman held a broad-bladed spear. A short sword hung from her left hip and was tied to her knee to make sure the spear wouldn’t get fouled in the sheath while fighting.

To either side of the Vampires were fourteen Werejaguars in their half-man/half-jaguar forms. With them were two jaguars the size of polar bears. Sinaacitos, according to Andre, who were supernatural creatures from South America. They were strong, fast, immune to most magic, and could use magic to a high degree. Oh, and the only way to kill them permanently was to burn them. At that bit of info, Mack grinned and muttered, “I got them.”

Sort of skittishly prancing around Valera’s group were five large elk that Andre called Paiyuks. Barely sentient, they were carnivorous, strong, and also immune to nearly all magic. Behind the group and looming over them were two massive, stone-plated creatures. They looked humanoid-ish, if twenty-foot-tall giants with grayish stone plates growing straight out of their tough, darker gray skin could be said to be humanoid. They rumbled and gnashed as they walked with a grinding sound of rocks rubbing against each other. They each carried ten-foot-long stone clubs that they swung with ease. Andre called them Jokaos and I could tell by the look on Rafael’s face that they were a nasty surprise.

Mixed amongst those were five normal humans dressed similarly to my crew, only wearing brown and yellow. There were five others that put a worried look on Andre’s face. Two were frail-looking, wondrously ugly old women called Hags. Apparently, Hags were all powerful witches who kept harems of abducted men to serve them as slaves and lovers. The other three looked like Eastern Native Americans, maybe Cherokee or something similar. They were apparently Nalusa Falaya, a type of vampiric monster that was slightly stronger and faster than humans, with fangs and claws, but were fairly easy to kill.

The two forces were facing each other across fifty yards of turf like one of those superteam showdowns I remember in Jake’s comic books; X-Men versus the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, maybe, or the Justice League versus the Legion of Doom. And in between us, his aura flaring around him, stood Hazael with a mild smile on his face, hands clasped behind him.

“The terms of this territory challenge were agreed upon by both Masters,” Hazael’s rich voice boomed around the stadium. “Both Masters agreed to the numbers and nature of weapons allowed ahead of time. However, due to Lord Valera y Guerra de Sangrecito’s violation, he has been penalized five members of his company. I will now give you five minutes to discuss strategy and tactics now that you each have seen your opponent’s force.”

Similar to a football huddle, everyone gathered around Rafael and me, eyes expectant. Von Feldberg smiled grimly at me. “I was not expecting him to have any Giants with him. I would have gotten a couple of Rakshasas or a Sphinx or two if I did,” he said with a certain amount of doubt in his voice. “I think the Werebears and Mr. White Wind are our best options there.”

The mild-mannered-looking young man shrugged, the three bears snorting. “If they can keep the Jokaos distracted, I will handle them,” I countered confidently.

Everyone but Rafael gave me a shocked look. The Jokaos had fifteen feet in height and God knows how much in reach and weight on me. Rafael merely gave me a long, measuring look and continued. “My people will handle Valera y Guerra de Sangrecito and his people. You Werewolves take care of the Werejaguars. I know there are more of them than you but they tend not to fight well as a group. And I imagine at least a couple will go after their own individual opponents, so everybody watch for that.

“Now, the Sinaacitos, the bear-sized jaguars, are also a problem,” he said gravely as he looked to the spider woman. “Enkalatha, I am going to need you to deal with them. Remember, they are strong, fast, and their magical offense and defense is powerful. Once you have them down, you need to burn them to kill them permanently.”

“Mack can help with that,” I said, pointing to the big man.

“Jaime and Hephestus, as well,” Andre volunteered grimly.

Rafael nodded gratefully, if pityingly. “Trolls, please deal with the Paiyuks,” he asked politely of the hulking creatures. I realized this close that they, too, had a bit of a musk to them. “Those are the ones that look like big deer.” He received happy and aggressive grunting in reply. “That leaves the humans, the Hags, and our cousins, the Nalusa Falaya. I leave them for you Goblins and humans. I don’t know who or what this Anachta Moctezinna is and I do not know where she will fight in his order of battle, so I leave her to you also. Watch the Hags, their magic is quite powerful. If you finish off your assigned task, look for openings to help or reinforce those in trouble. Questions?”

“Any preferences where we go after the Jokaos are done?” I inquired.

He smiled a fangy smile. “You can go to wherever you see a need,” he replied with deference. “You others can aid with the Sinaacitos, support the Goblins, or come help us with the other Vampires and Werejaguars. Anything else?”

“It is time,” Hazel intoned suddenly. The snow, which had been falling steadily since we arrived, suddenly ceased. The night became silent; the air heavy with tension, and the only sound was the guttering of the dancing torches. The Vampire Lords faced each other across fifty yards of snow-covered turf, their chosen warriors arrayed to either side, weapons out. Behind and to my right came a wet ripping sound followed by a hungry, pained, enraged howl that resounded around the stadium and was answered by the Werewolves. Mr. White Wind was gone; in his place stood a leanly muscled, eight-foot-tall, bestial humanoid with teeth that made the Werewolves look like vegetarians and claws a sabretooth tiger would have envied. His white, furry body was cut with clearly visible muscles, despite the fur, with much longer hair around his head and down his back. Baleful eyes gleamed eagerly at the twenty-foot-tall Jokaos. I think we had all forgotten Hazael standing at mid-field because more than just me started when he asked, “Is there any last minute appeal for peace that would dissuade you, Lord von Feldberg, Lord Valera y Guerra de Sangrecito?”

“No,” echoed the firm reply from opposite sides of the field.

“So be it,” the dragon-man said with an odd satisfaction to his voice. Hazael waved his hand and all entrances onto the field disappeared, including the magical arch. A flick of the hand upward drew our attention to the sky where we realized the snow storm had not ceased; it merely stopped snowing in the stadium. Above us, a dome of snow was building as a deluge of heavy flakes descended, making me worry about getting home after surviving this lunacy. The dragon looked at both Masters with a slight smile, levitated to about thirty feet over the fifty yard line, and thundered, “Begin!“

After flinching momentarily from that, two cacophonous battle roars soared to the heavens as both sides rushed towards each other. Having been trained by people who were often engaged in covert and/or nefarious deeds, I was silent in my dash towards the lumbering, ground-shaking Jokao as they bounded forward with surprising speed. I brought the axe down on the skull of a Werejaguar that outpaced his comrades, jerking the blade free in a controlled yank that brought the blade around to thunk into the shin of the first Jokao. The blade sliced right through the lower shin bone, the axe’s weight pulling me out of the way of the massive foot. The descending stone club aimed at me flew over my head and I somehow sensed that my allies flowed around both the club and the Giant howling, jumping on one foot whilst holding its lower shin with both hands. I heard a great clash as I darted behind the Jokao, swinging the axe over my head into the Giant’s knee. The huge creature roared in even more pain as it slowly toppled to the turf, forcing Andre and one of the Nalusa Falaya to run in opposite directions.

He grinned at me and shouted, “Next time yell, ‘Timber!‘ when you do that, Alice!” before running after his fanged opponent.

Running down the length of the writhing and prone Jokao, I jumped up to its chest, quickly swung the axe across its neck, and leapt down in a tidal wave of coppery blood that quickly found its way to my tongue, tasting tart and slightly bitter with minerals not normal in blood. A four foot gash across part of the windpipe and the right jugular and carotid spewed the Giant’s lifeblood, leaving it gurgling on the turf as it slowly drowned in its own blood. It gave a wet, hacking cough as both hands abandoned the wounds on its legs to try to cover the mortal wound on its neck. I wasn’t going to wait for it to bleed to death, however. Wiping the blood from my eyes, I darted around to stand above the increasingly weakly writhing head. I set my stance, timed his writhing, and leapt up, swinging the axe over my head and bringing it down on the Jokao’s cranium. A powerful, wet crack resounded around the stadium. The axe sheared through the thick skull and stuck with about half its length in the massive monster’s brain, leaving me hanging about a foot off the ground.

Dropping to the turf, I realized there was no way to retrieve the axe in the middle of a mêlée. I drew my short sword and a knife, assessing the situation. The Vampires and Weres seemed to be hacking and ripping at each other in a fairly even match near mid-field. Flashes of magic echoed around the stadium as the Hags and five Goblins stared across fifty yards of turf, flicking their fingers and weaving sinuous patterns in the air with hands and arms while chanting in an alien language. The spider woman was skittering around one of the Sinaacitos with Hephestus Lee, the huge jaguar’s hide riddled with arrows. Her front two legs glowed and occasionally flared to send concussive blasts at the huge jaguar that merely seemed to piss it off more, its screaming growls echoing around the stadium. As I was about to look for the other one, Mack shouted a three word phrase from the sideline and the Sinaacito burst into flame. Before it could even scream in pain, it exploded into fiery shrapnel that sent Hephestus flying towards the snow-covered tarp, landing with a cracking thump. His smoking form did not rise.

Seeing three Trolls around the other Sinaacito, both the Djiein and Mack refocused their energy on aiding the Trolls even as another joined the fourth Troll in a clawed-up, bleeding heap on the frozen turf. I saw the Paiyuk corpses lying not far from the dead or dying Trolls before my eyes found the other Jokao on the other side of the field from me. Jaime Hickok lay impaled on one of the Paiyuks, dead. The Paiyuk’s body was riddled with crossbow bolts. The Wendigo was darting in and out on the other Jokao, slashing (or trying to) the Jokao’s Achilles tendon while two of the Werebears wove in a taunting, menacing dance in front of the Giant. Ten yards away was the crushed body of the third Werebear. I moved to help with the Jokao and saw Katya be smashed to the ground by Anachta Moctezinna, her left hand covered in blood and her arm bent at a peculiar angle. The strange woman stood over the struggling Katya and I was about to go to the Russian’s aid when she passed out. Anachta merely nodded and looked around. Seeing me looking at her, she flicked open her mask and grinned at me before covering up again and darting towards the beleaguered Werejaguars who were down to a half dozen able-bodied fighters to the ten Werewolves surrounding them.

The Jokao was the more urgent threat to our people and as I decided that and started towards the stone-plated Giant, another Werebear was crushed beneath a mighty blow from the stone club, its body flying into the stands with a crash. Seeing that, the Wendigo leapt up, its claws latching onto one of the stone plates on the Giant’s ass, feet scrabbling for purchase on one of the plates covering its hamstrings. Finding a foothold, the Wendigo launched itself upward again, its claws digging into the skin above plate that stretched across its back. At that point, the Jokao took notice of the creature climbing it and swung the club over its shoulder towards where the Wendigo was clinging to it.