The Four Kings (26 page)

Ghost horses
.

Amanda shrieked when she saw flames shooting out from the tiny holes in the front of the armor where the horses’ nostrils should’ve been. She was very frightened by the glowing red eyes underneath the horses’ head armor. Eyes as potent as probing red laser beams of light.

“Now!” Indie called out.

In a split second, thousands and thousands of wizards materialized in fan-like formation, wearing the same war outfits, also riding invisible, apocalyptic horses.

This can’t be happening
, Amanda thought.

The haunting sound of a bugle rang in the distance.

“Noooo!” Amanda cried out, extending her hand. Her impulses forced her to cry out.

Giant screens followed their every movement, broadcasting every salient detail of the upcoming battle to millions of North Americans. Soccer matches were cancelled. Business meetings were deserted as executives rushed to the live feed of their computers in their offices. Neighbors and families and friends phoned each other to urge them to turn on the television. This was now pure, unadulterated reality TV. And grainy images of a sobbing Amanda filled the screens for a few seconds at a time, generously displaying her raw emotions to the world. Millions of residents of North America – NAM – covered their mouths in horror.

The wizards didn’t hear her. They were too engrossed by the upcoming thrill.

“The Battle of Osborne’s Farm will now begin,” Indie announced, her gleaming bicorn hat nicely giving her an air of authority. The giant screens all displayed her grinning image.

The camera shot to a beaming Demus, handsome in his military prowess. It seemed to suit him well. “All 21,906 wizards from NAM accounted for, Général de brigade,” he said.

“
Oui, mon ami
,” Indi acknowledged, peering at the ragtag army opposite them, about two miles away. Finally, the cameras showed close-ups of the Patriots army, wearing an assortment of camouflage uniform, army green surplus outfits, and civilian clothes. Bewilderment showed up on each and every face, including that of the commander, Jake Faulkner. Almost all were armed with semi-automatic machine guns or rifles.

An aide to Faulkner could be seen and heard talking urgently to his commander. “Jake, they can see and hear everything we do!”

A close-up of Faulkner showed his irate face, with a green beret on top. “Get these damn cameras outta my face!” he roared, not sure from where he was being filmed.

The next instant, the images of Faulkner and Indie appeared at once on the giant screens everywhere, showing a split screen, ostensibly to heighten conflict and contrast between the two.

“Mr. Faulkner,” Indie cheerfully rang out, “The wizard army is assembled and ready for battle. You have one more chance to surrender. Will you do so?”

Faulkner’s face exploded in rage. “You take the surrender right up your ass!”

Indie turned to her comrades, wholly undisturbed. “I think he says no.” She pointed to Justica. “The battle shall begin. Justica, you go first.”

“My pleasure,” responded Justica with glee. Straddling her half-invisible horse, she waved her hand around up into the air several times. “I think what we need is to confuse the enemy,” she said, very clearly broadcast to millions, “Shock and awe. First the shock; then the awe.”

A torrential downpour suddenly dumped down on the Patriots from the sky, drenching them with blistering hurricane-type winds. All the Patriots struggled mightily to assemble their weapons in the face of the extreme weather. Some slid and tripped in the mud, swearing out loud.

“More shock on the way,” Justica said to herself. Immediately, hailstones the size of golf balls pounded the Patriot army, sending the troops ducking for cover. Cries of pain resounded from with the twenty-thousand plus Patriots all over the meadow. Confusion reigned on their side. Close-ups of Faulkner shouting out orders dominated the screens, but his words could barely be heard above the deafening machinations of the weather.

“Now, the awe,” Justica finished off with a flourish. The winds vastly picked up speed, to hurricane levels. Conjuring up hundreds of tiny twisters on the Patriots’ side, Justica laughed with glee.

Amanda stood transfixed with shock and horror as the huge screens delivered images of Mortals, dressed in army outfits, sucked up into the air and unceremoniously spun around several times before ignobly being dropped several feet through the air upon the ever-thickening mud.

Pandemonium reigned on the Patriots’ side. Nearly all the Patriots were moaning with pain, crawling through the mud, or had fallen over their weapons. Faulkner was spotted stumbling as he attempted to right himself and assert command. Mud smeared his angry cheeks.

“Very good, Justica,” Indie approved. “Regi, your turn.”

Regi appeared as if he could barely restrain himself. He said, “Now for obfuscation, a battle technique. If they can’t see us, they can’t fire at us.” He released his fist into the direction of the Patriots army. All at once, thick black fog enveloped the Patriots, causing them to fumble for their weapons and to shout out directions to one another. No Patriot could see more than one foot ahead of him. Some of them crashed into each other as they rushed to their positions.

As he watched with delight, Regi twirled his finger at the thick cloud. “Now for some color.” Upon his command, hundreds of “flashes” – white, green, blue, red, purple, yellow, and orange – erupted spontaneously and randomly everywhere among the thick fog, further disorienting the Patriots. The outbursts of colored light continued for several more minutes, distracting the enemy as their eyes constantly had to adjust to the ever-changing stimuli.

“Brilliant, Regi,” Demus grudgingly acknowledged as he stood atop his tall mare.

Regi smirked.

Indie appeared as a child eagerly awaiting a twisty balloon animal from a street vendor. “Now, my turn.” She extended both hands, and then opened all her fingers out wide in a dramatic manner.

While the previous feats of magic dazzled Amanda, she just had to gasp at the next illusion.

The dense fog mysteriously lifted and an army of thousands of grinning, gleaming skeletons magically appeared and converged upon the retreating Patriots army!

All the creepy skeletons marched on in file, row upon row, unleashing fear into the Patriots’ hearts. So devastating were their appearance that some of the resistance fighters broke down emotionally, falling upon their knees to weep and to seek salvation from the Lord. The giant screens lovingly zoomed into assorted horrified reactions from the Patriots’ faces, shamelessly capturing their fear and abject and complete humiliation.

There was more. The skeletons manically wielded Japanese-style kendo bamboo sticks called
shinai
, and fearlessly raised them above their skulls in a series of intimidating moves. A melee of hand-to-hand fighting ensued. Hundreds of Patriots fled the scene of battle at the sight of the skeletons, while dozens of more brave compatriots tentatively approached the advancing monstrosities. Once engaged in battle, these fearless Mortals started fighting for their lives, even felling some skeletons or knocking their skulls off their spines.

Amanda’s mind was numb. She felt violently sick, and she bent over listlessly, having no desire to show poise. She nearly fell off her “horse,” so overwhelming were the violent images.

Justica’s face appeared on the screens. “Very good,” she said, her expression revealing that she’d realized things were getting out of hand. “Time to halt. No casualties. The Patriots’ army is in full retreat.”

Indie scowled, but mindful of the millions of horrified Mortals watching with eyes glued to the screen, agreed. “Call off the hostilities. We have won.” With a swish of her hands, the skeletons all vanished. “Be ready to disengage.”

A shrill voice rang out from the hovering screens in the sky. “Not yet, you royal bitch!” An image of a battered, but defiant, Jake Faulkner appeared, multiplied millions of times all over North America. He shifted his head to the left. “Fire,” he said.

As every spectator gasped, several rockets and missiles, launched by a small band of remaining Patriots using rocket launchers, soared through the air, en route to the Liberator army. Rocket flares could clearly be seen, tracking through the sky.

“Enough!” snapped Demus, who materialized on the screens, his face contorted by fury. He propelled his arm dramatically through the air, as if he were a pro baseball pitcher urgently throwing the ball to first base in order to head off a sprinting batter. Upon his command, all the missiles and rockets underwent a steep trajectory as they reversed direction, heading back to the Patriots’ side.

“No!” Amanda shouted out, horror-struck.

A series of explosions rang off, one by one, with fiery bursts on the Patriots’ side. Several Mortals were captured on screen being bombarded from the blasts. Everyone watching in rapt dismay realized that several Patriots had died instantly.

“Oh, my God,” moaned Amanda. Too shell-shocked to cry, she let herself slide off her horse, and then crumpled to the ground, lying on her side.

The close-up of Indie’s face showed her eyes wide, full of regret, then anger. She snapped, “Repeat, I said the battle is over. We’ve won. Back to work.”

With that comment, the wizard army disappeared, along with Amanda, leaving random fires burning on the Patriots’ side, along with destroyed weapons, fallen bodies, shell-shocked survivors, and thousands of still-fleeing deserters.

The Battle of Osborne’s Farm was now officially over.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Amanda stood, crestfallen, in the nerve center of the Liberators’ Headquarters. It was late evening, and all her staff had headed home for the day. She sighed as she glanced over the stack of resignations she now held in her hand. Over one hundred of her three hundred and fifty person staff had quit due to the fiasco over the Battle of Osborne’s Farm. There were hundreds of media requests, asking for a personal response from her. The crescendo of urgency was deafening.

Collecting her breath, she commanded, “Messenger alpha one on.”

Two concave arches, inverted so it looked like a cylinder had stood up and split into two through the middle, mechanically arose from the floor, surrounding her. Dozens of lens, lights, and controls dotted the inner sides of the tall arches. The hologram inscriber was ready.

“Recording on,” Amanda said, letting out a long sigh.

The lights blinked, bathing her with a reddish glow. She gazed straight at the lens directly in front of her eyes, and crisply stated, “I, Amanda Jane Fullerton, relinquish my post of Supreme Liaison to the Liberators of North America, effective immediately.”

She paused long enough, to let the apparatus know that her time was up. The device then slid effortlessly into the floor.

She spoke to the controls within the room, “Deliver this hologram to the wizards’ council at ten a.m. tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Ms. Fullerton, it shall be so,” the computer beeped back to her.

Turning off all the lights as she left, she took one last gaze at what had been her home for the past sixteen months, and then shut herself off in a sideways shuttle elevator.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Amanda strolled into the boardroom, strategically located among the executive offices of Berkeley University. Her nerves heightened as she stepped through the door, then they significantly calmed when she saw the familiar visages of her immediate family: her dad Trevor, her mom Maggie, and her brother, Adam. She gasped with delight at a guest sitting at one side of the mahogany oval table – Leslie Bafia, President of Partners with Liberators.

Out of respect, Amanda ran over to Leslie to give her a hug. A perked-up Bafia stood up quickly enough to receive the hug, and then she sat down. She glanced at her family: all seemed intensely worried, but at the same time relieved to see Amanda was safe. She, in turn, hugged every member of her family.

“Thanks for arranging the meeting,” Amanda said to Trevor. “I had such a hard time getting a hold of you.”

“You were crazy to attempt going to our family home!” Adam rose, unable to contain himself. “No one lives there anymore anyhow. The pressure was just too great.”

Amanda gestured toward Leslie. “And you brought Leslie!” She stared at the leader with newfound respect. “I never thought I’d ever meet her.”

Leslie graciously said, “It’s such an honor meeting you, Amanda. I also have long waited this day.”

Trevor held up his hands. “We did it for a reason. This wizard situation’s getting out of control. We have to plan ahead. Working together.” He glanced around the room, daring anyone to speak up.

Maggie spoke, “Amanda, you have no idea.” She shook her head. “You just have no idea.”

“What, mom?”

She blinked her eyes, her lips drawn in, “You’re the talk everywhere. Everyone’s looking at you, Amanda.”

She protested. “But I just resigned!”

Trevor held out his finger, “We’ll have to talk about that.”

Uh-oh. This wasn’t looking good.

She shrunk from the gathering in front of her, knowing resistance might not be a viable option. She hesitated to contemplate the unthinkable. She had to face the hard path.

Bafia stood up, placing her hands on the table. “Amanda, you have to take your job back. You’re our best hope.” As Amanda grimaced, Bafia walked up to her. “I want you to know that your family has been filling in the details on what you’ve been doing for us humans. Like extracting valuable information.”

Adam cried out, “You can’t give all this up!”

Bafia nodded. She said, “I wanted you to know that Partners with Liberators is not a doormat for the Liberators. We have our own strong sense of values. When we started –” She took a deep breath. “We thought the Liberators could only do us good in our society. We saw their altruistic means that they wanted to unite, not divide, people. We applauded when they destroyed all the active nuclear warheads all over the world. We’ll always be grateful for that.

“Having said that, we never intended to stamp with approval everything the Liberators did. We like to think of ourselves as equal partners who are always working to make the relationship better. When, for example, they introduced the bitcoin economy, we said bravo to the good ideas, like having a common measurement system for everything of value, but we’ve also pointed out the gross inequities in it.”