Confrontational Guest...Part 2

Imagine my surprise then, when instead of heading straight for Drake, the bear dodged to the side, quicker than I would have thought possible and crashed into my chest. Her great strength and large mass were easily enough to knock me to the ground. Before I could unscramble my senses and get back up, she settled her furry behind onto my chest, effectively pinning me as she sat facing Drake.

I was sprawled out on my back, but I was in a position that allowed me to see the shit eating grin on Drake’s face as he relaxed from his fighting stance and looked down at me in an even more condescending manner than normal.

Seeing his wicked grin, I struggled to free myself, but the Frau just settled down even more until I stopped struggling.

Drake threw his back in laughter at this pathetic scene. “Rusty, you have a strange choice of allies, I must say. Someday, if you survive long enough, you will learn the value of imposing your Will upon those who should serve.”

“Drake, you bastard! I know who you are now, what you’ve done to survive this long!”

He knelt down on one knee near my head, but just beyond my reach. “Yes, I know, son. But I also know what and who you’ve become. We share so much in common, you and I. Perhaps I will take you in as a student and teach you some of what I know. Then, you could be truly reach your full potential.”

If I could have spat in his face, I would have, but alas zombies don’t generate much saliva. “Fuck off, Drake. Once I get loose, I’m going to find you and kill you once and for all!”

“Oh yes, I tremble at the mere thought of it.” He laughed as he stood up, dusted off his pant leg and looked into the bear’s face disdainfully. “I know you from somewhere, bear.”

The bear licked her lips with her long tongue and brought her own face closer to Drake’s. Soon the two of them were within inches of each other as each stared into the eyes of the other.

The wrenching sneeze of the bear blasted bits of green and brown mucus onto Drake’s face and shirt, sending him staggering back a couple of steps as he wiped the disgusting spray from his face, cursing all of the while.

“Enough of these games.” He dropped the now dirty handkerchief into the grass and took one step towards the table, only to come face to face once again with the nearly naked form of Cerrydwen. The left side of her face was already purpling with a nasty bruise.

She looked calm and resolute as she stood straight and spoke to the man who had struck her down. “You have broken the Peace of this place, dear sir, but for that transgression, you are forgiven. Now, you have one last opportunity to start your journey down the long and difficult road to redemption.”

“I want nothing of your forgiveness, or your redemption, woman. I want what is mine!”

“If you continue down the path you seem so determined to take, you needn’t worry about that, dear sir, you will most assuredly get what is yours!”

“Woman, are you threatening me? You have no power over me! Stand aside, or I will be forced to hurt you again.”

I couldn’t get up, but it didn’t mean I was going to remain silent. “Drake, you better not touch her again! Come here and fight someone your own damn size!”

All three of them ignored me.

“Sir,” Cerrydwen countered, “it is not within your power to truly harm me. So strike me if you feel you must, but I will not stand aside while those beings remained trapped within those vessels.”

He stood silent for a moment, as he was unsure of what to do. I could see his right hand clench and unclench several times before he replied. “I will not allow you to free those monsters. You don’t know what it cost me to imprison them inside those urns.”

“Whatever their crimes, you have no right to keep them imprisoned in this way. I am afraid that if you will not release them on your own, I will have to do so. You may have the vessels when they are empty.”

As he stood there mute, Cerrydwen turned her back on him and walked up to the table. She picked up a gleaming silver athame that I had not seen before and reach toward the first urn, calling out in a sing song voice in a language that even I did not recognize.

All eyes were on Cerrydwen as she drew the urn containing the spirit of Drake’s mother to her and wave the athame over it in a mesmerizing manner, chanting all of the way. The glowing blade left a trace pattern of light behind as it moved, much like the sparklers I used to wave around in my youth.

Drake had stood rock still, as if he too were caught under a spell of some sort. But his shout and quick, lunging movement forward shattered the magickal calm. He caught her wrist in his left hand, twisting it in a cruel manner that created a loud popping sound from the bones in her wrist and a soft grunt of pain from her lips. The blade slipped from her spasming fingers and fell to the ground, the glowing blade seeming to drift in slow motion to stab into the moist earth of the island.

The moment the blade plunged into the earth was also the moment that the earth gave forth a great shudder of pain. Drake staggered with the sudden shift in the ground beneath him, still holding the obviously broken wrist of Cerrydwen, as they both stumbled back from the stone table where the urns began gyrating wildly.

With a great heave the earth buckled one more time, causing the larger urn of Dracaar to tumble from the table.

Too late, Drake saw the vessel begin its fall. He cast Cerrydwen aside like a broken doll and dove in vain in an attempt to catch the urn.

The urn fell inexorably to land with it’s lead-lined but clay stoppered mouth landing on the glowing silver hit of the upright dagger. With a thunderous crack, the seal shattered...