Rich Boy: Growing Pains - 17. Chapter 17

It was hot, muggy, and overcast as the column came to a halt with a single hand-signal passed down the line. Above them the sky was gray with clouds, and Worthington was covered in sweat from the muggy heat, and nearly an entire day spent walking as quietly as possible through the woods of far northern Arizona. When the signal for rest was passed down, he sighed and moved to sit against a nearby tree, pulling off his backpack and digging out some water as well as a protein bar that he automatically split with Brandon who was sitting beside him.

These clouds are making it tough to spot the beginning of the demon ceremony. Marcus sent mentally as he settled against a tree opposite Worthington. Michael Lowenthal was settling against another nearby tree next to Collins, who was rubbing his ankle yet again.

I'd dispel them if I could, but weather working isn't something I've learned yet. Worthington admitted with a shrug. He hated admitting to the gaps that still existed in his training, mostly in the more advanced, esoteric spell pieces like weather working.

We never mastered that either. Marcus hated admitting the limits of the government experimental programs as much as Worthington hated admitting his. Somehow it made it easier for both of them to do it when necessary.

"This damn thing is going cold again," Collins grumbled aloud. Worthington frowned a bit at that.

"Is the sensation moving, or stationary?" Worthington asked with a sigh. He'd had to reduce the sensitivity of the anklets three times since the plane had dropped them off here. The pollution of demon aura all over these woods was thick enough that the soldiers felt like their ankles were freezing off half the time. It was quickly coming to the point where the anklets would be useless when it came to actually detecting a demon.

"Stationary, just like before," Collins growled as he stomped his foot.

"We're all having the same problem again," Weatherby said softly as he moved back through the resting column and reached Worthington. "Shouldn't we just take them off?"

"No," Worthington shook his head. "I told you, they do more than just detect demon presence. They are a protection for all of you. Trust me, when we find the demons you're going to be as glad for having them as the dwarven armor you're wearing under you uniform and the dwarven gun you're carrying."

"Okay, but can you just turn off the detection part of it?" Weatherby asked.

"We won't have a warning if…" Worthington pointed out but the older man just shook his head.

"We're soldiers, kid," Weatherby said firmly. "We know how to keep watch."

"Okay," Worthington sighed, and began to prepare himself for some spell casting. Brandon shifted against the tree and closed his eyes as Worthington drew on power through their link. It took him nearly all of the remaining fifteen minutes of the rest break to finish removing the detection spells from the anklets of the soldiers, and he was feeling more tired than when they'd stopped once he was done.

"You need more time to rest after that?" Weatherby asked him with a frown.

"Yes," Worthington admitted, even though he hated doing that. He knew he needed the rest though, and he knew that not getting the rest would put everyone else in more danger than if they moved out now.

"Ten more minutes everyone," Weatherby passed along in hushed tones. "Collins, you move up to sentry and give Abrams a rest."

Collins moved out, and Lowenthal shifted to come sit near Worthington. The two of them had spoken through their thoughts for almost the entire plane trip up to this area, but had hardly spoken in the day and a half since then. As soon as the plane had touched down in the clearing and they had disembarked, Lowenthal had become less friendly and more focused on the business at hand than anything else. At first Worthington had been offended, because even though the ruggedly handsome man had continued to refuse his advances, he thought they were at least becoming friends.

"I think I get this Channel thing now," Lowenthal said softly. "I could see the way the power moved between you two this time."

"Having Brandon here is a big help," Worthington said as he leaned his head back against the pine tree's rough bark and closed his eyes.

"Enough to make up for the pain I'm causing because you have to take care of me so much?" Brandon's voice held an edge of bitterness to it that worried Worthington.

"Even if I had to carry you the entire way it'd be worth it," Worthington assured him quickly.

"You're not doing that bad at all, Meyers," Lowenthal added just as quickly. "Unlike Sinclair here, you weren't working out with us for the last few weeks, but you haven't slowed us down yet. Most people would have by now."

"You mean that?" Brandon asked with a hint of hope.

"Yes." Lowenthal said flatly as Weatherby came back towards them.

"Sinclair, you ready to get going?" Weatherby asked. "We should meet up with Eikks and Burns before the sun sets."

"Yes, I'm ready," Worthington said with a sigh as he stood up. In moments, the column of men was ready to move out, and they began snaking their way across the dry, forested terrain towards where they would camp tonight.

As they advanced, the sun moved closer to the horizon and found the gap in the clouds, turning them a dark orangish-red color. Last night when it had done that, they'd panicked thinking the demon ceremony had started, but this time they all paid it little attention.

The sun had set and twilight was fading into true night by the time they had reached the campsite that was being prepared by two of the mercenary soldiers. Worthington sighed as he let the weight of his backpack fall from him, and Brandon plopped down on the ground where they would sleep for the night. At least he would get a full night of sleep. Each of the other mages, including Worthington, would stand a three-hour sentry watch with one of the soldiers.

As had happened last night, Worthington took his MRE (military-standard Meal-Ready-to-Eat) and went to sit in a small group with Marcus de la Plane and Allan Weatherby. The MRE packet he'd selected was spaghetti, and tasted at least halfway decent. He knew they were Weatherby's favorite although he didn't dwell too long on how he knew that bit of information.

"If we don't find it by early afternoon tomorrow, we'll hike out to the pick-up point," Weatherby started the discussion in between bites of his own MRE. "The men are getting tired, and we'll spend the night at the base in Nevada before heading back out."

"Damn it, I thought we'd have found it by now," Marcus said fiercely.

"Covering this much ground on foot takes time," Weatherby shrugged. "Most people don't understand that."

"I think we'll find it tomorrow," Worthington said. "If we do, we need to decide if we attack directly, or pull back and wait until we're fresher. I'd argue for waiting until we'd rested up."

"It would be wiser, if we can afford the time," Weatherby agreed. "Taking tired men into combat is never good."

"The mages would be better off too, if we could wait once we found them," Worthington agreed as he eyed the hilltop he suspected held the demons on its other side. The maps said there was a nice valley there, and it would make a good spot, with natural protections, making it more difficult to approach unnoticed.

"The folks back east are not going to be happy with these delays," Marcus sighed. "They think with magic you can just close your eyes, go into a trance and find your enemies. Few of them understand it's really a complex process."

"Which mage will take first watch?" Weatherby asked, changing the subject. He commanded the troops, but Marcus handled the mages.

"It's Lowenthal's turned, followed by Sinclair with me after and then Angroselli," Marcus answered.

"Anything else we need to cover tonight?" Weatherby asked and nodded as both of them shook their heads. "How's Meyers holding up?"

"He'll be happy to get back to civilization, but he's doing okay," Worthington said. "I've been using the few healing spells I know to take care of the worst of his aches."

"I wish you could do that for all of us," Weatherby groaned, but there was a smile on his face. "I will be so glad for a chance to shower. This dwarven stuff is comfortable, and it does a good job of soaking up the perspiration without staying damp, but we all smell like a damn locker room."

"It's still better than the alternative," Worthington said with a smile. "Plus, the dwarves say it's machine washable."

"God damn that's a bad one," Weatherby chuckled at the joke.

"I'll see you later," Worthington said as he finished his meal and stood up, heading back to his spot next to Brandon. Marcus was talking to Lowenthal by the time that Worthington finished unrolling his bag and preparing for as much rest as he could manage out here. He put his dwarf-made gun down next to his sleeping bag as he crawled into it and began to relax. Back in the castle, he'd be waiting to figure out what he was going to do for the night, but here he was thinking mostly about sleep as the men who were still too awake for sleep yet talked in small groups.

"Sinclair," Lowenthal's voice brought him out of a sound sleep, and Worthington blinked at the bright light that met his eyes as he woke up. Had he slept through the night and it was morning already? He was still groggy as he sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus them in the brightness.

"What's going on?" Worthington asked as he began to come awake, and he knew something was wrong. No scratch that, he knew that there were several things wrong. First of all the clearing they had camped in was lit by bright mage lights of an all-too-familiar red color. Second, the wards that had been set up around the camp were gone, erased without having been set off. Third, everyone except he and Brandon was already awake, on their feet, weapons in hand, but they all had a slack-jawed expression on their face that was very similar to the one that Lowenthal had on his. Finally, he could feel the demons close by, and when he craned his neck to look around, he could see them, standing in a small group, looking at him with amusement on their faces.

There were six of the orange-skinned ordinary demons, four of the green-skinned Oska demons, and the familiar form of the Demon Lord Zaroc looming above them all with his skin lit by small orange fires running up and down it, and a massive grin that showed his rows of razor-sharp teeth. Around the demons were four human mages, including one that Worthington recognized as being Benjamin, the Adept founder of the government program.

"Imagine my surprise when I found out that my old friend Worthington Sinclair was with these idiots from the human government," Zaroc's voice boomed out, filled with glee. "I could not believe my luck that my old friend would come to visit me with these fools delivering themselves to my care."

"What do you mean, delivering themselves to your care?" Worthington asked as he shifted slightly. Lowenthal had placed his hands on Worthington's shoulders, keeping him on the ground, and Worthington noticed his rifle had been moved out of easy reach of his hand. Brandon was awake now, and crawling instinctively towards Worthington.

That was when Worthington discovered the shield between him and Brandon. Lowenthal must have done that before he woke Worthington, seeking to keep him from using Brandon as a Channel. It might have worked, too, because it was a damn good shield. It would have kept Jamie from linking with Carl and pulling power from Carl, but Worthington was soul-bound to Brandon and nothing short of death or distance would keep him from the power Brandon held for him.

"My little pet here was a very smart man," Zaroc gloated as he shifted so he could pet the fortyish Benjamin on the head as if he was a dog. "All his mages and the soldiers who serve them were implanted with deep-set controls they knew nothing about. Through him I can activate those controls, so you see, these government types come into my domain and deliver themselves to me. I never thought you though, would be so foolish to leave your safe haven and come after me. Am I to assume our deal is broken and that your Phoenix now lies open for me again?"

"Did you really expect me to believe you would keep your side of the bargain?" Worthington scoffed. He could still pull power from Brandon, but what good would that do? His first few blasts of power would not be enough to kill more than one of the lesser demons, and after that it would be all he could do to shield from the bullets of the soldiers, much less the mages and demons arrayed against him, including the Adept-level Benjamin.

"I would have kept it for a time," Zaroc shrugged. "But now that you are here in my hands, I believe I will return there next. With you at my side, they will drop to their knees and beg for mercy."

"I'll die before I serve you," Worthington said calmly.

"Maybe, but I have always enjoyed laying my hands on Sinclairs," Zaroc shrugged. "Now, I believe we shall head back to my temporary home. You may stand, with your bound one."

"Why thank you, Zaroc," Worthington sneered as he stood and Lowenthal stepped back just far enough. Brandon stood as well, immediately stepping into Worthington and wrapping his hands around Worthington's waist while moving behind him, burying his head in Worthington's back.

"Is your little one afraid?" Zaroc jeered and Worthington shrugged.

"I'm even a little afraid, Zaroc," Worthington admitted and the Demon Lord threw his head back in laughter.

That was about as much distraction as Worthington was going to get, and he leapt at the opportunity. As soon as he'd seen the Demon Lord he knew he was as good as dead. Here, surrounded by men controlled by the demons, without friends except for Brandon, there was little to no possibility of escaping. There was one thing he did know, and that was if he was defeated, he would take as many of these creatures with him as he could.

At least if he did that, Jamie might have a fighting chance, and it was far better to die fighting than to be a demon plaything.

His rifle flew from the ground where it had been kicked aside and settled into his hand with a reassuring slapping sound. His thumb switched off the safety while his other hand pulled the charging handle, chambering a round even as he brought it up to his shoulder in a professional move that he would never have been able to manage without having absorbed the abilities of Weatherby.

Even as Worthington fired the first three-round burst, hitting the Demon Lord square in the chest, cutting his laughter off short, Brandon spun around and released a wave of mage power at Lowenthal who was just beginning to react. Brandon was a Channel, and weak in power on his own, but that did not mean he was useless in that regard, and while his blast had no chance of penetrating Lowenthal's shields, it did knock the government mage off his feet even as Worthington shifted targets and took out one of the Oska demons with a perfectly placed head shot.

All hell broke loose as the dwarf-made bullets proved they could indeed penetrate the hides of demons. Zaroc was no ordinary demon, and while he was knocked off his feet with three bullet wounds dripping black ichor, he was not killed like the green-skinned Oska that Worthington had shot next. The mage, Benjamin was the first of the controlled mages to react next, blasting a shot of mage power at Worthington that nearly blinded him as it impacted the shield he'd thrown up. Brandon turned back around and all but melted against him as they linked through the shield Lowenthal had used to try and prevent this very thing. The shield shredded as they linked and Worthington pulled on Brandon's power pool while firing off several more shots.

Another Oska demon and a more ordinary orange-skin fell, dead from dwarven bullets. Lowenthal was just getting back to his feet when more shots rang out in the night and Worthington braced for the impact against his shields, remembering too late the charmed anklets the soldiers were wearing. When the bullets tore into the remaining Oska demons instead of him, though, he spared a look to see Weatherby and Jeremiah Francis firing their weapons at the demons instead of him, while the rest of the soldiers were still fumbling with theirs.

A quick exertion of his magic took care of the other soldiers though, and he carefully excluded the two soldiers who were firing at the demons. He could understand how Francis had overcome the controls set by the demon-controlled government Adept Benjamin, but he was not going to bother with how Weatherby had also slipped those controls. That could wait, if they got out of this alive.

Hope blossomed in him as he fired two more three-round bursts, this time at the Adept Benjamin, whose shield almost crumpled under the fire. The demon-controlled mage fell backwards in panic, and Worthington shifted fire to an orange-skin demon that was moving towards him with a blood-curdling scream. It was only moments since the fight began, but Zaroc was back on his feet in a flash, clutching a hand to his bleeding chest and shouting in the barking demon language. His remaining demons threw up a shield and they retreated, taking the still-controlled human mages with them.

"Cease fire!" Worthington yelled as they retreated and Weatherby shifted fire to Marcus de la Plane, trying to kill him before he escaped with the demons. Lowenthal was gone after them as well, and the anklets holding the soldiers frozen in place were quickly draining of power against the onslaught of the demon controls.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Weatherby shouted as he lowered his weapon and looked around at his fellow soldiers. "How the hell did I break free of that? Did you do that?"

"Grab your gear and let's get the fuck out of here," Worthington said as a reply as the clearing faded into darkness when the demon lights winked out. He put up his own mage light and frowned at the soldiers while Weatherby and Francis turned to grab their gear without further argument. Brandon was grabbing his own light backpack and Worthington's stuffing things into them quickly.

"What about them?" Weatherby asked with a nod towards his fellow soldiers.

"I can maybe break one or two of them free, but the anklets are all that are holding them in place," Worthington replied. "As soon as the power in them is drained, they're going to carry out their last instructions."

"Which means they'll attack us," Weatherby frowned. "Collins, and Erikson, can you free them?"

"I can try," Worthington said in a strained tone, his mind already reaching into Collins and trying to snap the deep-routed controls that had been activated. He blanched as he realized that to do so without taking his time might cause permanent brain damage, but did it anyway. Collins groaned as he was released, and fell to his knees. Maybe the soldier was lucky in his own right, because a quick check revealed no permanent damage, or even temporary damage. Worthington shifted to Erikson, and cursed moments later as he felt the man's mind snap into instant insanity. A quick exertion of magic sent the man into a coma, and he collapsed to the ground. "I'm sorry, Weatherby. The controls were too deeply set in Erikson. He went insane when I snapped them."

"Is he dead?" Weatherby asked as Francis helped Collins back to his feet, and also set to helping him gather his gear.

"No, but it'd be better if he was," Worthington frowned. "A good mindhealer might be able to patch him back together again, but I won't guarantee it. He's in a coma."

"You're saying it'd be a mercy if he was dead?" Weatherby asked grimly and Worthington nodded.

"But don't do it," Worthington said as Weatherby stepped towards the man with his weapon raised. "There's still a chance. They're going to leave him here, most likely, so we can come back for him."

"Okay, let's get out of here," Weatherby said and Worthington took his backpack from Brandon, strapping it into place as he jogged after the former military officer. Brandon was at his heels, moving in perfect step with him, and the other two soldiers brought up the rear.

An hour, and four miles later they stopped, nearly all of them out of breath. Worthington knelt over Brandon, the reason they'd stopped, where his friend and soul-bound was writhing on the ground, breathless and suffering from muscle cramps. Magic poured into Brandon, the best healing spells he knew, easing the worst of the pain and letting the guy catch his breath. Without anyone suggesting it, Worthington moved to cast similar spells on the other soldiers.

"Can you do that to yourself?" Weatherby asked as Worthington sagged to the ground when he was done casting.

"No," Worthington sighed, drenched in sweat and too tired to pull out a much needed bottle of water. One was pushed into his hand, along with a bar of chocolate that he consumed greedily. He needed the energy badly.

"We'll take a rest then," Weatherby said firmly and dropped to the ground where he stood, along with Francis and Collins, who had not said a word. "Can you explain what happened back there?"

"You've met your first Demon Lord," Worthington murmured sarcastically as anger washed over him. He felt like a fool at that moment. Naturally there were hidden triggers deep in all the government mages! The government trusted few of them, maybe only Benjamin, the man who had founded the program, and so he'd placed assurances deep inside them, and the soldiers that they could be controlled if they turned against the government.

"No fucking shit," Collins retorted while Weatherby just stared at Worthington.

"Your oh-so-great Benjamin placed controls deep in all of you, controls that the demons were able to have activated, and we walked right into their trap," Worthington said sharply.

"I got that part," Weatherby's voice was tinged with sarcasm, but he still sounded calm and confident. Worthington took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He wasn't perfect, he made mistakes like any other man, and he'd made them now. The key was to move past those mistakes. "What I'm wondering about is how Francis and I managed to throw off whatever it was that was done to us. What is different about us that let us resist? At first, I couldn't do anything, but when you started firing, it was like something broke in me that let me act."

"Me too," Francis said calmly. "As soon as you started fighting, it was like something washed away whatever was holding me back and I knew I had to help you."

"You'll never be able to hurt me, and will always try to help me," Worthington said bitterly, and sighed. He could just use magic to wash away their questions, but he didn't want to right now.

"You did do something to him when you captured him back at that camp," Weatherby said in a sharp accusatory tone.

"Yes." Worthington admitted. "You won't remember it, Francis. Nothing I can do now will restore that memory, and frankly that's a blessing to you. It wasn't pleasant what I did."

"What did you do?" Weatherby demanded. "Did you do the same thing to me?"

"No, it was something different with you," Worthington sighed. Would they turn on him when he told them the truth? If they did he'd fight them, but he'd rather not if he didn't have to do that. It would be easier just to wipe their memories, but something held him back from that. "Did you notice the improvement in my shooting skills?"

"People shoot better when their lives are on the line," Weatherby shrugged.

"Not that much better," Worthington noted sourly.

"What are you trying to say?" Weatherby demanded. "Just spit it out, damn it!"

"I took a part of your soldiering skills from you and made you forget that." Worthington said tiredly. "For me, it was like I lived your life in little under an hour, learned everything you learned in all your years of studying, and as an officer."

"Mages can do that?" Collins said with wide eyes, and Worthington shook his head.

"It's something I can do." Worthington said aloud while Weatherby gave him a very hard stare. "No other mage I've heard of can do it, or has heard of doing it either. It doesn't take all your skills from you, just some of them, and I guess… well, I never have known people I did this to after it was over, but well, I guess you got something else in return, something that let you resist the controls on you."

"You did this without my knowledge, or my approval." Weatherby said angrily. "You basically raped me, didn't you?"

"Something like that, yes." Worthington admitted with a shrug.

"I hate all you fucking mages," Weatherby said as he stormed off into the night.

"You didn't do none of that shit to me, right?" Collins asked nervously.

"No." Worthington said. "But you're lucky though. It was just pure luck you're not like Erikson right now."

"He's right, you mages fucking play with our lives like they're nothing," Collins said as he leaned back against the trunk of a tree and closed his eyes.

"You seem to be taking this well," Worthington said to him while Francis just stared at him before shaking his head, getting up and going after Weatherby.

"Yeah, well, I'm enlisted," Collins retorted dryly. "We know officers are always fucking with our lives and there's not much we can do about it, so we just live with it. This shit is not all that different. The way I see it, whatever you did to them, it saved our fucking lives and I'm not standing around waiting for some demon to eat me, or worse yet in their fucking belly already. Those damn things are fucking ugly."

"Yes, they are," Worthington sighed while Brandon leaned against him. There was the sound of boots heading towards them and Worthington brought his rifle around for a moment before lowering it when he saw it was Francis and Weatherby returning. The moon was nearly setting, and shedding more light now that it was below the clouds.

"Are you just going to make us forget what you've told us?" Weatherby demanded in a harsh tone.

"Do I need to do that?" Worthington asked.

"No," Weatherby sighed as he sank into a crouched position. "Whatever you did, I figured it saved us tonight. Francis pointed that out. We're still alive, and we're free of whatever it was that got the rest of the men. If you really know what I know, you should understand what I'm thinking."

"Sometimes an officer has to make decisions that get men killed," Worthington said softly as the lesson flowed up from deep inside him. "You have to make tough decisions not based on feelings you might have for those men who look to you to lead them, but on the needs of the mission. Is the sacrifice worth the outcome?"

"In this case, whatever you took from me… well we're here now because of it, so it was the right thing to do," Weatherby shrugged. "That doesn't mean I like it, or you for that matter, but it was the right thing and I'll live with it. If you hadn't done it, I might not be alive to live with it."

"Thank you," Worthington said softly.

"Don't thank me," The man spat. "I'm still fucking pissed as hell, and I will be for a long fucking time. You stole something from me you had no right to take. The government folks are right – you mages are dangerous, but that's not the point. We need to decide what we do now, and I want to hear what you think."

"Fuck," Worthington said as the night was bathed in an eerie dark red light. He looked up into the sky and saw the clouds glowing a dark red. As he got to his feet, so did the others. The red clouds were positioned just over the valley he'd suspected the demons were using.

"Damn, right where you said they'd be," Collins muttered as there were more sounds of boots crashing through the underbrush.

"Everybody down!" Weatherby hissed and they all dropped to the ground, facing the direction of the sounds. Worthington stretched out his senses and felt the minds of two soldiers approaching their location. With a grunt, he got Weatherby's attention and held up two fingers. "Can you take them down without killing them?" The man asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe," Worthington said as he reached out again. The anklets were totally drained of power, so they would be no help. Working in his favor though was that the protections that had been put in them were all but shredded now by the deep controls placed on them from the Adept Benjamin. If he tried to work out the controls, he'd risk doing to them what he did to Erikson, but if he could take more time…

"What did you do?" Weatherby asked as the two men collapsed to the ground just as they came within their line of sight. Collins and Francis were on their feet, rushing over to the two men and removing their weapons from them. Worthington got up, with Weatherby right behind him and approached them more slowly. Brandon followed a few steps behind them.

"I put them to sleep for now," Worthington said quietly. There were more minds out there, close by and heading in this general direction. All of them were moving in pairs, and seemed to number the same as the soldiers they had left behind, except for the ill-fated Erikson.

"If you try to break the controls on them, will they go the same way as Erikson?" Weatherby asked.

"Not if I can take my time about it." Worthington said in a tight voice. "The others are out there too, heading this way. Most of them are moving in pairs, using a standard search pattern. We got lucky. These two moved further out ahead."

"Do you work on them now, or do we try and take down the others first?" Weatherby asked.

"You and I move out, taking the others down." Worthington said and looked the former officer directly in the eyes. "If they don't collapse when I give you the signal, you shoot them."

"But you'll do your best?" Weatherby demanded and Worthington nodded.

"Once we've got as many of them asleep as we can, we will bring them all back here, and I'll start working the spells off of them," Worthington said with a sigh. "It's not going to be easy, and once we have all the ones alive we can get, it's going to take at least two hours to break the controls on them, and I'll need to rest after that."

"They've started the spell." Weatherby said as he looked out at the blood-red glowing clouds on the other side of the mountain. "We can't let them finish it, but we can't take them on with just you for a mage and three soldiers."

"At least we know the bullets work." Worthington said with a sigh as he began to feel out for the nearest group heading towards them. "Frankly, it's probably a suicide mission for us to go in there and stop this. There are too many mages, too many demons on their side right now. Unfortunately, by the time we get reinforcements here, they'll have their habitat established and it'll take a hundred mages to burn them out with thousands of soldiers backing them up."

"So we go on a suicide mission," Weatherby said grimly. "Just do me a favor?"

"What's that?" Worthington asked.

"Make sure our lives are worth it," Weatherby growled and Worthington nodded before making the hand motion for the man to follow him. Two more soldiers were nearby, and it was time to get them back.