Taking Overkill to a Ridiculous Level
Braefoot Business Park, Lanark, 34 miles west of Edinburgh
Morrigan’s forces set out from Edinburgh Castle to find Cooper at 2 o’clock on Thursday afternoon, which was a day earlier than planned and even under enormous pressure from her it was the fastest they could be ready. They travelled past Ratho and onto the M8, spreading out over all the lanes on both sides of the motorway.
The belief in magick had spread over all of central Scotland by then, and those with cars had (depending on their ancestry) either abandoned them out of superstitious fear or been burned at the stake for owning one, including one man who screamed that he was only leasing, so the roads were otherwise empty.
A hundred bagpipers and drummers led the phalanx, playing battle hymns, with Morrigan being carried immediately behind them, surrounded by her elite bodyguard, the Urraidhean Na Fine. Her half-ton throne was resting on two willow tree trunks strengthened by a magick potion and carried on the shoulders of four thralls (each one exactly six feet tall). They were keeping their speed down to fifteen miles an hour, so as not to overwork the horses.
On her left the head druid, Elliot D. Roebuck, was jogging a respectful ten steps back with his priests and priestesses behind him, followed by the choir of a thousand voices singing effortlessly as they jogged. On her right, her generals and their adjutants took a similar position. Ten thousand shield bearers and pikemen followed the throne, with ninety-thousand Calvary and infantry coming next.
In the middle of the phalanx were the cooks, blacksmiths, armourers, carpenters, labourers and four battalions of engineers followed closely by another ninety-thousand infantry and archers with non-combatants and mules towing trebuchets bringing up the rear.
Thousands of boobrie ravens filled the sky above them, accompanied by the now fully grown uileupheist dragons, making even the smallest one as long as an aircraft carrier and twice as wide.
Madeleine Mary Yates and her two surviving agents were being pulled along in a canvas-covered supply wagon by an old man wearing paisley pyjamas, he smiled a contented, toothless smile, his false teeth still steeping in a glass beside his bed where he’d left them when he’d awoken during the night with an overpowering desire to go to Morrigan.
They were sitting on hessian sacks full of grain that had made her beige suit filthy, much to her annoyance, as she was still miles away from a change of outfit. It was an uncomfortable ride, as the makers had seen no reason to include suspension.
“He must be able to run at that speed because of some sort of metabolism-boosting drug,” Hernandez, the taller of her two agents, said to Yates about the man towing them, “you can’t possibly believe in that fairy tale nonsense.”
“On my way to Edinburgh Castle yesterday, a man with the head of a wolf riding a unicorn passed me at over sixty miles an hour; he was naked and clearly the unicorn wasn’t the only horny one, so don’t tell me what I can or cannot believe,” she snapped.
On their way to Lanark (renamed, to make it the twenty-third Morriganton, so far) people ran down embankments and jumped off of bridges from sixteen feet up to join them every time they passed near habitation.
They pulled off the motorway and stopped at the foot of the Black Hill, four miles from Lanark. Her bearers carried Morrigan, sitting on her throne, to the summit where she could draw power from the ley line that flowed into the hill. Miles back a soldier reached into the supply wagon, cradled Yates like a baby (which she was not happy about) and carried her at fifty miles an hour to set her down in front of where Morrigan rested on her throne, her skin itching for battle.
“Telleth unto me, what thou knoweth of the warlock Callum Cooper,” she said.
“To expand on what I said yesterday,” Yates said, the speed of her arrival having left her hair looking like a haystack in a high wind, “he’s stationed in a military facility and his recces are too unpredictable to track, even with satellite imagery, we can’t gain a precise lock on him in real time without more feet on the ground but with your help we’ll capture him and once you’ve extracted the access codes to his financial assets, we’ll call up a chopper and dustoff back to the states, leaving him with you.”
“I knoweth not what strange tongue thou speaketh in, but ’tis most certain not English,” Morrigan said, only having learned the language several days earlier, so she could listen to what people were saying about her behind her back, like any good control freak.
“What I’m saying,” Yates said bowing her head, which they thought was to show submission, but was actually to hide her irritated expression, “is that I’ll take you to where he’s hiding, so you can have him and I can take the money he stole back to my government, once you make him tell me where he stashed it.
“Such is the pact foresworn, and thou hath told mine map makers where he hideth?” Morrigan said. Once she received a nod of agreement, she dismissed Yates with a languid wave of the hand, who gave an uncharacteristic squeal of surprise as the soldier scooped her up and took her back to the cart as fast as she’d left.
“What is thine strategy, mine general?”
“First, my liege,” Quinn, who had been kneeling beside her on one knee the whole time, said, “I respectfully recommend staying here for the night, it will allow your mages to complete their spell casting and we can arm and train your new recruits at the same time.”
“And supposeth the blasphemers striketh first?”
“Very perceptive, my liege,” Quinn, said, pretending that it wasn’t the first thing he thought of, “they might hit us here to minimise civilian casualties, even though we have them outnumber ten to one,” he paused to smile reassuringly, “but if they do, the all-round visibility will make a surprise attack impossible and our aerial cover will stop any bombardment,” he said, looking up at the creatures circling tirelessly overhead.
That drew a puzzled look from Morrigan, “What of the Warlock Callum Cooper?” she said, after struggling unsuccessfully with the concept of minimising casualties.
“Yates says he’ll stay in the town out of harm’s way and try to sneak off when the fighting starts, which is why we’re stationing your own witches and warlocks on all roads out, to stop him getting away.”
“Mine mages be not nearly as powerful as he be,” she sneered.
“Er, no, sadly they’re not, but there are twenty-three of them, and the spider web spell they’re weaving, to envelop the town, will bring them all running at once, along with my… er, your soldiers, if he touches it.”
“Then we resteth here until dawn’s first light, but not an hour longer shalt we linger! But sendeth some of mine pets over them to guardeth the skies,” Morrigan said, pointing to the raves and dragons as she fought the desire to claw at her flesh at the prospect of a night without witnessing violent deaths, then she had an idea that cheered her up.
“Gather those of mine thralls who hath transgressed mine laws and let them fight unto death for mine forgiveness.”
Back in Braefoot (or Morriganfoot, depending on who you’re talking to) Business Park the satellite photos of the approaching army had spurred the whole base into a flurry of activity and the martial law committee had called a crisis meeting at six o’clock that evening with their civilian advisors.
“I never knew you had legs,” Cooper said, sitting in the civil service cafeteria, sipping green tea.
Cassie was wearing a grey business suit and muttering darkly as she stood trying to tug down the hem of the knee-length skirt lower than it would go. She looked stunningly beautiful, but there was no way he was going to tell her that, as that would have shown vulnerability.
“Will you finish that, we’re going to be late,” she said, pointing at the tea after checking the time on her phone, which read 17:58.
“Let them wait, this is as good a time as any to remind pompous people that the world doesn’t revolve around them,” he said mockingly sticking a pinkie out as he took another sip.
“Move it!” she snapped, pointing at the exit.
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he smiled, holding out a conciliatory hand as he lifted his staff, stood up and strolled casually to the door, “don’t go bursting a blouse button, although, on second thoughts…,” he said peeking back at her mischievously.
“Aargh!” She screamed in frustration as she followed him.
Photos of important people that nobody remembered anymore covered the conference room walls. On the wall opposite the door, a clock was ticking its way up to 6:03pm. Twilight had come early, mainly due to dragons, a weather forecast they were unlikely to give on TV after the news.
A long table of polished oak with eight chairs on each side and one at the top and bottom sat in the centre of the floor. Each position had a thick intelligence briefing (compiled by Cassie), several sheets of blank writing paper and a cheap, blue plastic pen.
General Henry Alcott-Browne sat at the top of the table, his red-banded cap dripping with gold braid lay beside him, seated either side, facing each other, were his adjutants, Major Justin Ross, a man in his mid-forties who looked permanently constipated, and Captain Ram Singh, a tall, bearded Sikh in his late thirties wearing a black turban with the regimental badge pinned on the front.
Further down, two on each side, were the four civil service department heads (three men and a woman) on secondment because none of them were Celts, they all knew that they were only there to rubber-stamp the general’s decision and make it look superficially democratic and were all glowering at the newly promoted Cassie as she joined them, apologising for being a few minutes late.
Cooper sat at the foot of the table and put his feet up on the shiny surface to tuts of disapproval.
“If you have to be here, can you at least leave your affectation outside,” Alcott-Browne said, standing up and gesturing at the warlock’s staff.
“I will if you will,” Cooper said, pointing at the medal ribbons on the general’s chest.
“You’re nothing more than a common conman,” Alcott-Browne said, going bright red.
“I’m not a common anything, and you can complain about con tricks when the army stops rounding their annual budget up to the nearest hundred million and hiding things you don’t want the public to know about by pretending to pay ten times more than they’re worth for things like lightbulbs.”
“Ms Sloane, can’t you keep your staff in check?” The grey-haired, senior civil servant opposite her said.
“Seriously? How come none of you people know I don’t work for you? See this badge that says, ‘Visitor’ on it in big, red letters hanging around my neck?” he said holding up his laminated access-all-areas pass.
“Shut up, all of you!” Cassie said jumping to her feet rubbing her forehead, Morrigan’s voice was getting louder in her head as she got closer. She wanted to kill them all and run to her goddess, more than she’d ever wanted anything in her whole life.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled a plastic bottle full of what looked like cloudy water out of her handbag with a shaking hand, it was a potion Cooper had brewed with one of the chemistry sets using some local herbs and flowers and when he’d first handed it over he’d told her it should shield her from Morrigan’s influence for a week at a time but she’d put off taking it until it was absolutely necessary, as it was his first attempt at a magick concoction and she was worried that he’d brew a love potion, just to annoy her.
She took a long slug, grimacing at the foul taste but it worked immediately, the voice fading, leaving her alone in her head once more, “I apologise for my outburst,” she said, embarrassedly, as the others looked at the normally mousy Cassie with shocked expressions on their faces, except for Cooper, who was grinning widely.
“I sincerely hope that’s not alcohol you were drinking, Ms Sloane,” Alcott-Browne said disapprovingly.
“No, it’s something that blocks Morrigan’s attempts to control me, I can stop taking it, if you want, but then she’ll make me rip your spines out through your throats and take them to her as souvenirs.”
“Want to take another sip, just to be on the safe side?” Captain Singh said.
“As I was saying before your late arrival,” Alcott-Browne continued, glaring accusingly at them both, “her forces appear to be bivouacking a few miles away and we should start bombardment after dark, I’m also scrambling a squadron of F-35s out of Leuchars in Fife in a coordinated assault,” he looked at the major who nodded to confirm that Leuchars was indeed in Fife.
“That’s not a good idea,” Cassie protested, “maybe you can’t judge the scale from the photos, but as it says in my report, those dragons are called uileupheist, and I estimate their weight to be over a hundred thousand tons each. They could swallow a jet fighter whole and burp out the explosion. Not to mention those giant ravens, called boobrie, that are the size of houses, and that’s not even counting any others we might not know about. There are things… terrible, monstrous things that only come out at night that she may have working for her. We should retreat again, give ourselves more time. We’re outnumbered and outclassed, but If you’re determined to stand your ground, broad daylight would be the best time to do it.”
“What nonsense, I don’t know what kind of hypnosis or hallucinogens the enemy is using, but I am sure that there’s a logical explanation,” Alcott-Browne spluttered.
“Honestly?” Cooper said, dropping his feet to the floor and leaning his elbows on the table, “Did any of your ancestors have sex with ostriches, by any chance? Because you seem to have an innate talent for burying your head in the sand.”
“Take great care with what you say next, Mr Cooper,” the major said menacingly, “the general is a very powerful man.”
“Really, can he do this?” he said tapping the floor gently with his staff, the runes barely glowing, as he whispered, “Plood.”
Alcott-Browne’s eyes widened as he started floating slowly up towards the ceiling, without his chair but still in the sitting position.
“Cooper! Quit it!” Cassie shouted, glaring at him.
He murmured, “Teirinn,” before answering, “I wasn’t going to hurt him, I was just making a point about his perception of reality,” he said defensively, as the general wafted gently back into his seat.
“Parlour tricks don’t frighten or impress me, Mr Cooper,” he said, the sweat he was mopping off of his brow making a liar out of him.
“What should frighten and impress you is that her thralls can run fast enough to trigger a speed camera carrying the car they’re about to drop on your head, and you’ll need an M2 fifty-cal,” he said, referring to a heavy machine gun, “just to slow them down, now, multiply that by…,” he paused to look at the summary page of the report beside him, “well over 250,000 and calculate your chances of survival then.”
“Nonsense,” Alcott-Browne said, “those are just airborne hallucinogens and we have gas masks.”
“They covered more than thirty miles in just over two hours to get here… on foot! How do you explain that?”
“Military intelligence is working on that right now, you remember them don’t you, ex-lieutenant Cooper, that’s the people you betrayed.”
“I didn’t betray anyone, I was syphoning off slush-fund money scheduled for delivery to bribe a genocidal dict…,”
“Classified!” Alcott-Browne shouted, cutting him off as he jumped to his feet, “That information is classified! You listen to me…”
“No, you listen to me,” Cooper said standing to face him, “I met more than enough of your kind in the services to last a lifetime, you all have chests full of medals for campaigns you never risked your lives in. You’re going to send a lot of good, brave people to their deaths because you can’t adapt to change, and we all know what happens to species like that.”
“Major Ross, arrest Mr Cooper for breaching section two of the Official Secrets Act.”
“Captain Singh draw your weapon and detain that man,” the major said, having specialised in buck-passing at military school.
As Singh was looking around desperately for someone of a lower rank, he could pass the order down to, Cooper lifted his staff, “You’ve seen what I can do, the first one to touch me will have a wonderful view of the scenery from low orbit,” he said, turning to walk out.
“Cooper! Callum!” Cassie shouted as she ran after him, “What good did that do?” she said grabbing him by the arm when she caught up, “I thought we’d agreed to make a logical presentation together, not start a fight.”
“Oh, please, didn’t you see their body language the moment we walked in? They’d made their minds up before they’d even sat down. We gave them their chance, now we do it our way.”
“Er,” she said, noticing their surroundings for the first time, “was this corridor always made of moss-covered stone running with water?”
He blinked and looked around at what he’d been too annoyed to see moments earlier. There were in a long, narrow passage illuminated by a bright light at the far end. He looked back the way they came, but there was only a blank cave wall.
“And this had to happen, just as things were going so well,” he said sarcastically.
As they walked cautiously towards the light at the end of the tunnel, he kept checking the ground for railway tracks.