Hard Magic

1908

The last Iron Guard stood at the end of the brick tunnel. Fetid water dripped down the walls and had flooded the bottom foot of the narrow space. The Imperium man balled his hands into fists and they burst into blue flames. The water striking him turned instantly into steam and began to boil around his legs.

"You will not pass!" the Iron Guard shouted in Japanese. "Glory to the Emperor! Glory to the Chairman!"

Ten yards. Pershing leaned back against the damp wall and peered around the corner as he shoved more shells into his Winchester '94. He worked the lever and chambered another round. Time was running out. The same Geo-Tel that had destroyed a thousand mile swath of Siberia in one stroke was now targeted here and was due to fire any second. They had to get past that Iron Guard. They'd already killed three of the bastards but lost half a dozen Grimnoir in the process.

"Sven, Bob, on my signal, hit him from the left." Southunder and Christiansen moved quickly through the muck. Browning was still reloading his pump shotgun. "John and I will throw down some covering fire. Bill, you rush him." The Brute, Jones, just nodded his head vigorously, his courage surely fortified with alcohol.

"What 'bout me?" Traveling Joe asked as the little man squatted behind him.

"Once he's distracted, you get that device and break it. No matter what."

He muttered something in Portuguese and disappeared.

The famous Cog, Nikola Tesla, had given them the information about his invention. The Imperium had tricked him into building it, and had kidnapped his pigeon to keep him quiet. It drew the Power itself up from the core of the Earth and spiked it on the surface, drawn to a complicated targeting spell. They did not know where the design was drawn, but they'd been able to intercept the Iron Guards before they could flee with the device from Wardenclyffe laboratories, but rather than give it up, they'd decided to destroy themselves along with it in suicidal fire.

The single test firing of the Geo-Tel had managed to wipe out the entire Cossack army, and now it would slag the Eeast Coast of the United States of America.

Not if I can help it…

"NOW!" Pershing and Browning leapt into the tunnel and opened fire. The gunshots were devastatingly loud in the enclosed space. The bullets and buckshot struck, sending the Iron Guard staggering back, but his body was laced with kanji of durability and vitality. He raised one hand and blue fire erupted down the tunnel. Pershing dove into the foul water to avoid certain death.

He was hugging the bottom when the telepathic message from the surface arrived. Blue light growing in the sky. We've only got seconds left. Hurry!

Working on it, Isaiah.

When he broke the surface, Browning was at his side shrugging out of his burning coat and holding a shotgun with a wood stock scorched from the heat. The Iron Guard was distracted by Southunder's rapid gunfire as the other Grimnoir flanked him. The Iron Guard moved toward them, hurling fire, but jerked as the water around his legs was frozen into a solid block by Christiansen.

The Iron Guard lowered his hands, blasting fire into the ice to free himself. Pershing had once been the best shot in the Army and showed it as he snapped the Winchester to his shoulder, lined up the front sight, and drilled the distracted Iron Guard in one eye.

Jones crashed down the tunnel in a wave of water, his muscles driven with super-human strength as he burned his Power. The Iron Guard was snapping around, blood spraying from one socket, kept alive only by kanji spells and fanaticism, liquid flame shooting from his fingers as Jones tackled him with a roar.

Pershing was up and sloshing forward as he worked the lever. The Power was rising up through the ground with a crackling rage. Soon it would supercharge the atmosphere and the resulting explosion would reach from Canada to Washington D.C.

It's firing!

Jones was on top of the Iron Guard, fists hammering up and down like pistons as he slammed the man's head into a misshapen pulp. He rose, still bellowing, meat and hair dripping from his hands. "Nobody messes with Wild Bill! NOBODY!" He kicked the body down the tunnel.

We're all going to die.

"Vierra!" Pershing shouted. "Break it!"

Traveling Joe appeared with a splash next to him, holding a strange mechanical device. It was humming and crackling with Power. "You mean this?" He raised it overhead and slammed it down into the bricks, cracking it into several pieces.

The electric tingling in the air died. The Power was returning to the core.

It's… it's dissipating. You did it!

"Yes… yes, we did…" Paris, France