Milo ...Eagle

      By Pattie Lawler

 

           

Milo watched Raul remove the gold chain from around his neck. His rival mumbled as he grasped an end in each hand and pulled. The gold stretched and became a thin line across his chest. When his spread arms reached their extreme limit, Raul flicked his left wrist toward the nearest wall.

The resulting whip writhed on the floor like a living thing.

“Nice,” Milo whispered, eyeing the six-foot coil.

Raul grinned while removing a gold pen from his breast pocket. The end of the whip fit into the pen cap, forming a handle, and with a final flick, the entire length glowed a soft white light.

“Weapon of choice?” Milo asked with a grin.

Raul gave a curt nod. “You prefer handguns.”

“They’re faster.”

“But not so easily concealed.”

Milo gestured with his chin at the corridor. Saddah, moving cautiously, stepped into view. For a second, their eyes locked.

Saddah grinned.

Suddenly, the magician was gliding down the hall, as if on air. Milo frowned at this unearthly change, and then noticed the figure cast no shadow.

“Doppelganger!”

The image of Saddah passed through the iron gate with no resistance. It was followed by another.  Milo could see an almost solid string of apparitions choking the hall.

Raul’s whip cracked against the first one, and it puffed into a shower of dust that drifted for the floor. He took care of the next, and the next, in the same manner.

He’s trying to cover his approach.

“I agree,” Milo murmured and reached into his pants pocket. “My real weapon of choice is even easier to hide than your whip.” He removed a closed fist, and in one swift motion, threw its contents down the hall.

Bits of orange herb flew through the many Saddahs, nullifying each one back to the original.

“Cayenne,” Milo announced to his surprised rival. “A spell-reversing herb.”

“And useless against weapons,” Saddah bellowed, charging the gate. In his hand was a scimitar.

“He conjured a sword!” Milo yelled, reaching up and into one of the holes that led to the hidden spring. From its hiding place, he pulled a saber.

“Why not a gun?” Raul complained, backing away from the gate as Saddah’s blade cut through the lock.

“The hole’s too small for the grip.”

Saddah kicked the gate open, the scimitar coming up, his eyes locked on Milo. At the same second, Raul’s whip captured the end of the scimitar and jerked it to the side.

Without pausing, Saddah extended his bent arm, more swiftly than Raul was pulling. The tip of the blade pierced Raul’s arm, forcing him back against the wall with a scream of pain. Milo screamed as well, leaping forward, the saber slicing at the hand that pressed Raul back. Saddah glanced at Milo and spun, his free hand aimed at Milo’s temple. Milo ducked under the blow and came up, his fist connecting with Saddah’s chin. The magician staggered, jerking the scimitar from Raul. Milo’s rival groaned, slipping toward the floor, but still pulling on the whip. Saddah flicked his wrist, ridding himself of the gold chain. Milo rushed him, the saber in both hands and aimed at his chest. Saddah didn’t try to parry the blow, but raised his hand. The top of the scimitar shoved the saber upward and lifted Milo off the floor.

Shocked at the superhuman strength of the magician, Milo let himself be carried back by the thrust and landed with his back to one of the doors. He slid his free hand into his pocket and straightened. “What have you done?”

Saddah smiled. “I have come to liberate the Eagle, at any cost.”

“Including your soul?”

“I am unimportant.”

“Do you think the Eagle, if it existed, would keep company with a soulless demon like you?”

“I am unimportant. All I need do is free him.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t exist, you freak.”

Saddah frowned, the scimitar coming up again.

The gold chain lanced through the air, capturing the sword’s midsection. Saddah’s frown deepened as he jerked against the pressure. Milo leapt forward again, the saber up and a handful of cayenne leveled at Saddah’s face.

The magician gestured and the cayenne froze, midair. Milo gasped, and Saddah blew the cayenne back at him. Forced to retreat, Milo threw himself from the herb’s path. Saddah pressed his advantage and followed. Milo twisted, the saber coming up and slicing up the side of the exposed jalabiya as Saddah raised the scimitar. The extreme limit of Milo’s reach drew the saber’s tip across the underside of Saddah’s arm.

In drawing his sword-arm up and away from Milo’s attack, Saddah’s unnatural strength had dragged Raul from his place against the wall and to Milo’s feet. Milo’s hand flew out, catching the gold chain. He dropped to his knees, adding his weight to Raul’s while protecting his shoulder from the scimitar with his saber.

Raul, his face pale, smiled at Milo as they landed, nose to nose. “Perhaps it was premature of us to abandon our bodyguards.”

Milo chuckled, twisting the chain around his hand as he pulled. “You mean you’re not having fun?”

Saddah suddenly released the scimitar and leapt away from them. Milo dropped onto Raul while frantically racing to get to his feet. Whirling in place, he was stunned to find Saddah had abandoned them and was facing door six. Milo bit back a curse as he freed the discarded scimitar, his eyes on the magician. But even as the chain fell away, the sword disappeared.

“Spelled to him,” Raul whispered.

His thinning voice drew Milo’s attention and concern. “How ya doing?”

“Been better.”

Milo cast another glance at Saddah, who was engrossed with the door’s lock, and decided to risk tending Raul. Returning to his knee, he placed the saber in Raul’s good hand and peered at the seeping wound. “Let me know if he moves.” He dug in his pocket and then slipped his hand into Raul’s shirt, pressing cayenne against the cut. “It’ll be warm, but it’ll stop the bleeding.”

“Endless supply?”

The fact that Raul had left out 75% of his sentence pushed Milo’s concern into true alarm. “The sword must have been spelled as well,” he murmured. “The cayenne should take care of that as well, but that’s all I can do for you.”

Raul appeared to be past caring as he slumped against the wall. Milo called his name twice, got no response, and stood, turning to face Saddah. “What have you done to him?”

The magician showed no sign of having heard as his arms flew wide, and white lightning arced from his chest to blast against the door. Milo threw himself over Raul, protecting the unconscious man as lightning, like St Elmo’s fire, jumped from the ironwork in each door before coalescing in the gate where is pulsed for a second, then faded. Milo was never so grateful for the vinyl walls.

The sounds of Saddah beating against the obstinate door roused Milo. Rising, saber in hand, he faced the magician.

Knowing that Saddah had sold his soul for what power he possessed meant that he was, by far and away, stronger than anything Milo could throw at him. It also meant that killing him was the quickest and best option for ending this battle. Taking a mental inventory of his weapons, Milo plotted his strategy, knew it was risky, and then committed.

Reaching in his other pocket, Milo pulled out a handful of bindweed and raised the saber. Dragging the blade across an area of his hand that had lost all sensation from the acid bath, he coated the blade’s length with blood while casting a spell on the metal to fly true. Tossing the sword up, he caught the hilt between two fingers just behind the guard and drew his arm back, ready to throw the sword like a javelin.

“SADDAH!”

The magician was turning as Milo threw the bindweed, hoping to immobilize him. Saddah’s hand rose to arrest the herb as he had the cayenne as Milo threw his only weapon with all his strength.

Now defenseless, he watched as the sword flew.

And was caught by Saddah as he swept aside the herb. The magician paused, seemingly to admire the sheen of blood, before he in turn threw the blade at Milo.

For a terrifying second, Milo was galvanized in place. His mind’s eye could see the path of the sword, with his unguarded chest as its goal.

Then the chamber was blazing with golden light, and the sound of the saber bouncing to the floor was lost under Milo’s scream of “NO!”

A heartbeat later came Saddah’s cried of, “Allah be praised!”

The thawing, brass wings of the Eagle surrounded Milo, protecting and healing him. The Eagle was  massive, yet his bulk didn’t quite fill the room as his piercing eyes found Saddah.

“Abomination!” the Eagle barked. He released Milo and swung around to face the magician. “You will not touch him.”

Saddah dropped to his knees, his arms wide. “Divine Wind—”

The Eagle’s claws shot out and disemboweled the man. Saddah, his face suffused with surprise, dropped in a messy splat.

Milo spun, caught Raul’s arm and heaved the insensate man over his shoulder. “You know I can’t thank you enough,” he addressed the Eagle as he worked.

“I am happy to have finally done you a good turn, Milo Scarlet.”

“We’ll talk later, when I can kill a whole goat for you! Please, return to your room, you’re still in danger.”

The Eagle seemed to chuckle as he faded from the chamber.

Milo pushed the gate open with his foot and lumbered down the hall. Never had there been so many stairs as he struggled with his burden.

“My next email to you is going to be a link to Jenny Craig,” he groused, using Raul to push the door to the study open. Dropping his rival on the nearest couch, he returned to the fireplace to pull the lever for the flood system. The resulting alarm was deafening, but Milo barely noticed as he collected Raul and carried him to an alcove.

When Simon and the MI5 agents arrived a minute later, they found Milo standing beside the fireplace.

“You okay, boss?”

“Very good, actually. Saddah is still in the vault, but as he’s no longer among the living, it hardly matters. When the water recedes, we’ll haul his body outta there.”

“We’ll handle that, Mr. Scarlet,” Captain Bainbridge said with a curt nod. “And Jimenez?”

“He slipped away during the fight. I was too engrossed by Saddah to pay attention. Sorry about that.”

But Captain Bainbridge waved this away. “It was Ascolan we wanted. Jimenez will keep.”

Milo nodded and continued to nod as Bainbridge went on about the wrap up. Finally, he put his hands up. The cut in the glove made Simon frown, so Milo hurried on. “If you have no objections, gentlemen, I would like a moment with Simon and my staff.”

Bainbridge paused only long enough to express his thanks and to promise that clean up would be handled with alacrity before bowing and showing himself and his men out.

Milo lunged for the alcove when the door clicked closed. Simon was right behind him.

“Took an enchanted sword to the shoulder,” Milo was saying as he snapped the light on to reveal a pale Raul to Simon’s gaze. “It didn’t look dangerous, but he was reacting like the wound was fatal.”

“Enchanted swords’ll do that.”

“I doused him with cayenne.”

“There’s a surprise.”

Thank you, Milo.

Milo grinned down at Raul. “So you’re awake.”

Enough to thank you. My men?

“In custody. I’ll have Lawrence call home for a ride for you. In the meantime, let Simon look you over.”

“I’m guessin’," Simon said as he opened Raul’s shirt, "by this one-sided conversation that you two are in simpatico?”

“Raul gave me a charmed coin and was able to beam his bank accounts directly into my brain. He also said some things while I was reading his mental diary, but I was able to ignore him.”

“Wanna give it back, now that we’re in control of his worldly possessions?”

“Actually no. He’s kinda comfortable.”

Simon nodded as he rose. “I’ll be right back. And I’ll let Lawrence know to get a driver.”

Milo beamed at his bodyguard as Simon went to collect what he needed to treat Raul. When the door closed again, Raul opened his eyes.

“That wasn’t the real Line, was it?”

“No. But it was a very clever means of getting into Owswell. I commend you.”

Raul’s eyes sank closed again, and he sighed. “Why have we never spoken before, Milo?”

“Because we were too busy hating each other. Do you think we can set the posturing aside for a while?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well...I’m getting married and think it would be really neat if you were there.”

Raul’s eyes didn’t open, but he grinned. “How could I refuse such a gracious invitation?”

“I’ll send you the register.”

“Sotheby’s, Christies and Bonhams?”

“You’re a mind reader, my friend.” Milo laughed. “Make sure you spare no expense.”

           <0>        

            The house lights came up as Albany stepped behind the curtain. The thick material muffled the sounds of people leaving the theater, but the unnatural silence backstage brought her up short. Not only was no one speaking, but everyone, actor and stagehand alike, was staring at her.

            And they were smiling.

            “What?” she demanded, smiling in spite of herself.

            The two people closest to her moved apart, exposing a carpet of red rose petals that wound into the heart of the theater. Harry the guard stood at the edge of the stage, grinning.

            “You have a guest.”

            One of the sopranos took the token bouquet from her hand. “I don’t think you’ll need this.”

            Laughing, Albany gathered her skirts into her hands and ran for her dressing room. Before her came the thunder of applause while rose petals and congratulations flowed in her wake.

           

 

                                                                                                                                The End

Home