War Bards
Ian Hendrick always chased his dreams, but a dream chasing him was a new one. The rookie drummer’s magical new life began with a classified in the Rolling Stone. The band’s regular drummer was hospitalized. He never thought he had a prayer at a callback from a hard rock powerhouse group like Guardian, though some of their odd interview questions seemed to give him a leg up. Do you have synesthesia? Yes. Can you control the colors? Can’t say I’ve ever tried. Ian wiped his clammy palms on his jeans. This was his big moment. He flattened a blond cowlick in the double-paned glass and shuffled into L.A.’s iconic Ironbar Studios. Its cool air dried a layer of nervous sweat. Make pops proud. Do what he couldn’t before he passed. He sat behind the massive drumset and counted the band into their anthem, “Metal Defender.” Time to chase our dream.
At present, the path to his dream of being a pro musician wound through a living nightmare. A reptilian demon climbed along the high ceiling above the flickering scoop lights, hissing through the song’s intro. The gray creature’s horns slipped through a narrow cone of light and reappeared over the bass player. It growled and maneuvered above his drum kit, slithering more so than creeping. Clear viscous fluid dripped onto his cymbals. “Holy crap!”
Fletch rushed to him, plucking his bass in rapid fire. Long brown strands hung around a haggard face of stubble and a ‘stache worthy of Magnum P.I. “Never mind the monster. The song is your weapon. You’re draggin’ the beat.” A quick nod to their manager, Rod the Scot, in the control room, then Fletch went into his next riff.
Ian calmed his nerves and hammered out the pattern, his sinewy arms whipping like a vengeful kraken. His aching legs found the groove pocket again, flying over his double bass pedals. Wisps of gold and blue light converged in front of him. The demon growled as his two-toned sphere drifted from the drums to the center of the group. Ribbons of purple snaked from Fletch’s axe and melded with it. Andi laid into her red flying-V Gibson. Matching streams uncoiled from its body and merged into the ethereal mass. Honshu’s black hair hung over his golden mirror-body Les Paul. His meaty chord progression sent out streams of green to complement the magic orb. Sheets of multi-colored radiance pulsed from Ellis’s stack of synths on Ian’s other side. Nora flipped her white hair over her shoulders and grabbed her mic off its gooseneck stand. She tore into the first verse, contributing a strand of silver to the levitating sphere.
Rod aimed his hands at the ceiling of Studio B from behind the control room glass. The towering demon obeyed and dropped to the floor, its blackened sockets glaring into Ian’s eternity. The demon flashed rows of dripping incisors and shrieked through vibrating bands of mucus. This wasn’t in the brochure, Fletch! His timing slipped. The magic orb’s intensity weakened above the band.
Fletch’s head snapped toward him. “Stay with me!”
Slick, muscular legs stormed the drum kit in an instant.
“Now,” Fletch screamed. “Release the spell.”
Ian tried to stay with the groove, wanted to, but the three-fingered claw reaching for his throat startled him off his throne.
Rod’s accent cut through the craziness in the studio over the intercom. “Cut, cut.” With a wave of his hand, the monster dissolved. “We’ve got two days before Wacken and our showdown. If you can’t handle our flagship number. . . Fletch? Talk to him.”
“Damn it!” Nora spun on her sneakers and wound up for a fastball.
Ian ducked right before her mic slammed into a crash cymbal and fell on a pedal. “What the hell was that?”
“Everybody take a break.” Fletch removed his bass and marched into Ian’s space. “You want this gig or not?”
“My sales gig at Bandland isn’t exactly paying the bills.” Ian’s face hardened. “Of course, but---”
Fletch flipped some strands from his angry mug. “That was a part of your audition.”
“Eight-foot nightmares?” He rubbed his narrow chin. “You guys called me in for this yesterday.”
Fletch sat on a buzzing amp. “I told you what to expect.” He took a swig of his soda. “We chose you for all of your abilities.”
“Synesthesia’s one thing.” Ian flopped into his drum throne. “But that?”
“All of us here have it.” A gentle belch from Fletch. “A particular kind of magic.” He stood and motioned for Ian to follow him. “Let’s talk with Rod. If you’re going to be in this band, you need to understand what’s at stake.” He stopped outside the control room. “Before Nora takes your head off.”
Ian hurried after him. “I got the gig?”
2.
Rod reclined in his chair. A pair of designer shades sat in his wavy salt-and-pepper hair. “Ian, lad.” He pointed to an empty chair beside the engineer. “Take a seat.” Rod slid a contract across the top of the recording console. “Twenty percent cut and five days in Germany. No one can force you to sign. Up to you, lad.”
Ian took Rod’s pen and inked the pages. “Who would pass up five figures and a week in Europe?”
Fletch leaned against the racks of outboard reverb units and compressors. “We invited you to the audition for specific reasons.”
Rod rolled a pen in his hands. “You’re more than just a great drummer. You have the gift, but that gift needs honed double quick.”
Ian’s concerned gaze bounced between them. “What was that in the studio?”
Rod scratched his belly. “It was real, I assure you. Not everyone sees it, but it can inflict harm and pain.” He handed Ian a business card. “Keep an eye on that. Fletch, if you please?”
Fletch strode to a synth against the wall and conjured up a moody descending progression. Ian read the card again. Glitter shimmered between the Highland Management banner and Rod’s name. “War Bards?” The words sparkled and disappeared as the music faded.
“What you saw was real magic,” Fletch said.
Rod slid his card back into its case. “There’s a war happening all around us every day. A fight for control of our galaxy.”
Ian tried to stifle a chuckle and failed.
“No joke.” Fletch put his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “There’s more to our shows than what the crowds see.”
“Like the magic?”
“Yup.” Fletch hopped upon the outboard racks. “There’s a crystal called the Indrik. The only one of its kind in our galaxy.”
“Aye,” Rod said. “It’s our job as War Bards to protect it.”
Ian’s mind rushed to maintain their pace. “From who? What’s it do?”
Andi ambled into the control room, tying her shoulder-length blonde and blue hair up in a ponytail. “Hey, guys.”
“Lady Andromeda.” Fletch bowed.
She punched his arm. “Only my dad gets to call me that.”
“We were explaining to Ian here about the Bards,” Fletch said.
Honshu loped in and hopped up beside Fletch. He set his pick in the corner of his mouth. “Learning about the club?”
Rod spun a knob on the recording console. “Anything to add, Hun?”
“Attila was Mongolian,” Honshu said. “I’m Japanese.”
Rod grinned. “You and your golden axe make a lot of money.”
Honshu scoffed. “Golden Horde was Genghis Khan. Also Mongolian.” He grinned. “But I do love the pile of cash it rakes in for me.” His brown eyes fell on Ian. “Listen to them. It’s all for real. Music makes magic.”
“All I wanted to do was play music with the pros,” Ian said. “This magic stuff is outa my league.”
“But it isn’t.” Ellis strolled into the control room doorway, straightening out the braided red mowhawk atop his bald head. “I didn’t believe either when I came onboard.” His blue eyes focused on Ian.
Andi nudged Ian with a shoulder. “If we didn’t think you were capable, we wouldn’t have invited you to the session.”
Fletch leaned back and looked out into the hall. “Where’s Nora?”
“Smoke pit,” Honshu said. “Blowing off steam.”
He sat up. “Anyway. The Indrik creates and destroys stars in the Milky Way.”
“Keeps balance in the galaxy,” Andi said.
It all sounded outlandish, but Ian played along. “Each galaxy in the universe has one?”
“Yup.” Fletch knocked back the rest of his soda.
“Why Earth?” Ian shifted in his chair. “Are we the only ones out here?”
“Hardly!” Andi tinkered with a melody on the synth.
“No,” Fletch said. “Other civilizations have either died off or are dying. We’ve advanced to a suitable level of technology and magic to properly protect the Indrik.”
Ian massaged his temples. “Okay. From who?”
“The Drang,” Honshu said.
Ian’s frustration mounted. “Drang.”
“Interdimensional creatures that want to control the universe,” Fletch said. “I know it’s a lot to absorb, but it’s life and death.”
“Imagine holding the power to create and destroy entire solar systems in your hand,” Ellis said.
Ian stared at the ceiling tiles. “So, we rock out to save the galaxy. Why do these creatures show up at our concerts? Why not some ancient temple or something?”
“There are nodes,” Fletch said, “that connect their dimension to ours. They can’t just cross over anywhere.”
“Through the ages,” Rod said, “we figured out where these nodes were located and---”
“Set up concert venues,” Ian said. “Clever.”
Rod held up a finger. “Points of protection.”
Honshu hopped down. “Some of them still slip out and walk among us, masquerading as other things. People. Pets. You name it.”
Worry crept into Ian. “Is that what happened to Erik?”
Fletch shook his head. “Our regular drummer’s in a coma. That’s why we chose you.”
Andi strode around to join them. “We need you. You’re special like us.” She gave him a flirtatious smile.
“That’s why Nora’s so pissed,” Fletch said. “More than the fate of our world’s at stake.”
“Sure. No pressure.” Ian’s jaw dropped. “What if I can’t get the song right?”
“Relax,” Fletch said. “You will. We don’t have the time to go through every step now, but the War Bards wouldn’t have called you here otherwise. We’ll have another go at it during sound checks in Germany.”
3.
An immense black stage poked out of the rolling meadows of northern Germany. Ian paced it, searching for another living soul beyond the bands and their crews, but none existed. Andi walked to him with her twelve-string while he waited for his drum tech to finish tuning the kit. A gray cat trotted from the field and stopped at the top of the stage steps. He knelt and called it closer.
“Hey,” she said. “Lemmie show you something.” She strummed a warm, broken progression. Faint trails of lavender drifted from her fretboard and swirled level with Ian’s head. A tiny face poked through the smoke and smiled.
He stroked the cat’s back through its loud purrs. “What the---?”
Andi giggled. “Not all of it’s doom and gloom.” She turned toward his drum kit. “Hop back there and try and keep up.”
He pulled some sticks from his gig bag and readied for Andi’s lead. She broke into a bright, driving rhythm reminiscent of Zeppelin or U2. Ian found her groove and pounded out a pattern on his two floor toms. The lavender mists returned, swirling around her. Andi spun and danced as the magical energies created a fairy. A wash of shimmering gold rose from his drums, forming more winged companions.
“Nice.” Ellis joined in on keys, adding a melodic line and more fae to the party.
The fairies twirled to the music and flew back and forth across the main stage. Their upbeat tune filled the countryside. Tendrils of green and orange light rose like evaporating mists from the meadows, creating gigantic mushrooms and trees. The fairies chased one another into the forest, streaking among the trunks and foliage. Andi strode between the boys and cued the end of their jam session. The mists and forest faded on a passing breeze.
“See?” She swung a finger across the field. “We can conjure as much good as we want.”
The cat found Ian’s bare legs and snaked between them. It rubbed its maw against his shin.
Ellis wore a concerned expression. “Hey. Where did that cat come from?”
“A house close by, I’d guess.” Ian extended a hand to scratch its head. The cat’s eyes turned solid black. Its raised paw morphed into a leathery, black hand and clawed his right calf. “No-good, son of a. . .” The cat hissed and scurried around the equipment offstage. Ian’s body was stuck on pause.
Andi looked confused. “You okay?
He snapped himself out of it. “Damn thing scratched me.” He set the injured leg on the other. Lines of blood formed and trickled.
“We should see Rod about this,” Ellis said. “That thing just came outa nowhere.”
Ian brushed it off. “I’m fine. A few scratches is all.”
Ellis eyed him cautiously and fiddled with some effects on his amp stack. “Tomorrow you won’t be able to find the grass. There will be campers, tents, and thousands of fans jam packed into this place.”
“Truth,” Fletch said, striding from the wing of the stage. He checked his guitar’s tuning. “Nearly a hundred thousand screaming fans.”
Nora marched to the front of the stage. Her hair was done up in a bun. Her black yoga shorts and Maiden tee did little to hide her body. “God, it’s hot.” She looked around the group, waiting for Honshu to plug in. “You guys ready?”
Fletch walked to center stage. “War Horn from the top.” He shouted to Rod, lounging under the shade of a tree. “You ready?”
He gave a thumb’s up. “I’ll give you mates something for target practice.”
With a nod from Fletch, Ian fired up a tribal beat on his toms. Fletch and the others soon joined in, and eight measures later, they fell into a high-octane galloping groove. The air between Ian and Nora rippled. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead and neck. The gashes in his calf burned.
Nora snagged her mic and sang the first verse. “Vengeful hooves thunder hard across the plains. Many won’t live to see their families again.” Their magical energies converged above center stage into a disc of red light.
Rod conjured up a pair of towering gray masses. Each sculpted under his hand into a troll, wielding an oversized axe. They charged the stage from both sides, grunting out clouds from their wide nostrils.
Fletch hurried to center stage. “Good work. Stay in the pocket.”
As Ian glided through the song’s chorus, the disc of light molded into a giant translucent Viking. Nora pointed to their creation as her voice climbed to a high note, then to the attacking trolls.
The Viking bounded off the stage, landing in front of the monsters. The first troll swung its blade toward the Viking’s left thigh. Andi strode to the front of the stage, playing her solo. Fingers glided over the frets with ghostly finesse. She lifted the neck of her guitar toward the rigging and swung it down. The Viking mirrored her, arching its sword down to block its attacker. She maneuvered the warrior’s blade over its head as the troll’s axe cut the air again. Sparks jetted from their powerful collision. With another sharp whip of her instrument, the Viking shoved the monster off and split the troll’s noggin like a melon. The Viking stormed through the disintegrating troll to its final adversary, who remained hell-bent on reaching the front of the stage. Honshu strode out to join her, harmonizing Andi’s melody on his Les Paul. As he took over the solo, their warrior grabbed the troll’s long hair and dragged it backward. In one swift stroke of the Viking’s sword, the troll’s head detached and evaporated from existence.
After “War Horn” ended, Fletch strode to Nora’s side. “Not bad,” he said.
Nora grabbed her water bottle and chugged. “Let’s see how we do with Metal Defender.” Her eyes narrowed on Ian.
His mouth was a desert. The heat in his calf spread up his leg and into his abdomen.
Ellis glanced over from his synth stacks. “You’ve got this one.”
Fletch walked to the front of his drum riser and propped a sneaker on it. “Keep it at your tempo. Don’t fire it off too fast. You’ll sabotage yourself, man.” His gaze narrowed. “You feelin’ all right? You look peaked.”
Ian found his water bottle and took a swig. “Fine.”
Nora snapped her fingers impatiently. “Let’s run it. Other bands are waiting their turn.”
Fletch shoved off the riser. “Nice and steady.”
The band’s eyes were on him. Other groups in the wings snickered. Are they laughing at me? Whispering voices hissed in his ears. Ian’s heart raced. Excitement overdrove his fear. He counted off the band on his hi-hats, but the tempo was too fast. Ian hung with them through the first verse and chorus, but partway into the second verse, sensation in his right leg deteriorated. Their combined efforts conjured a dragon of blue energy above them, but its form faded as Ian’s tempo slipped behind the beat. Another of Rod’s horned demons sprinted over the open meadows toward them. Fletch strode to the front of the stage, guiding their creation toward the creature. The dragon unhinged its lower jaw, but the weak flames it ejected did nothing to slow their attacker. As the song continued, the painful fire spread in Ian’s body. Their dragon swatted and clawed at its adversary to no avail. The monster reached Ian’s kit as the song ended and lunged for his head. Its outstretched claw disappeared as it swung through his face.
“Enough.” Rod ambled from the shade and disintegrated his creation. “If he can’t hold the beat on that tune, we may want to replace it. I can only coach you. I can’t fight your battles for you.”
Nora took a swig from her bottle and flung it across the field. “Or replace him!”
Fletch took off his bass and sat at the front of the stage. “You know we can’t do that, Rod. Defender is the most powerful song on our playlist.”
Ellis plopped down beside him. “We’re gonna need against that thing that’s coming---”
Fletch grumbled.
Ellis checked his surroundings and the other bands in the wings. “We’re gonna need it tonight.”
Nora spun at the stage stairs and aimed an accusatory finger at Ian. “Either he figures it out, or we find a replacement.” She stormed off across the meadow. “I’m outa here.”
Ian slumped in his throne, a sweaty, drenched mess. “I’m sorry.” He stuffed his sticks in his gig bag and moped down the stairs stage right. “I’ll get out of your way. I don’t belong onstage with you.” The billowing clouds wheeled counterclockwise amid a growing sea of yellow stars. He listed forward until his face bounced off the hard earth.
Ellis’s voice echoed in Ian’s fading consciousness. “Ian’s down!”
***
Ian awoke to the others huddled over him on their tour bus. The thin bench cushion dug into the miniscule amount of meat on his back and shoulder blades. The cool air pumping from the overhead vents wrenched a jolt of shivers from his feverish body.
Fletch lifted Ian’s right ankle. “Why didn’t you say something about this?”
“It was just a cat.” Ian forced the words through his cotton mouth.
Fletch slapped Ellis’s shoulder. “You know better, man.” He looked to Honshu. “Go find Nora. She can patch him up.” His head hovered over Ian’s face. “Feeling anything strange?”
“My body’s on fire,” Ian said. “Hearing weird voices.”
“A Drang for sure,” Andi said. “They tend to prey on the new people.”
Two sets of feet fumbled up the bus steps in quick succession. Honshu herded Nora toward the rear of the tour bus.
She groaned when she saw him lying helpless. “God. What did the green pea do now?”
“A Drang,” Ellis said, stepping aside.
A paternal tone invaded Fletch. “Think you can fix him up for the show?”
Nora’s petite frame loomed over Ian. Her light blue eyes melted into pity. “I don’t know what good it’s---”
“You’re our cleric,” Fletch said. “Without him we’re toast.”
Her chest sagged. “Fine.” She rubbed her hands together and placed them on his injured calf. “I’ll need you guys to back me up.”
Andi rubbed Nora’s back. “You’ve got us.”
Nora hummed a haunting melody. It reminded Ian of something from an epic fantasy flick. The others harmonized and set their hands on Ian’s arm and legs. Twinkling green particles from their spell materialized above Ian’s heart, then snaked into his navel. Warmth returned to his chest and lower extremities. Health and invigoration rooted out the inflammation and rot. He propped his torso up on his elbows.
Honshu offered him a hand. “Feeling better?”
“Thousand times better, yeah,” Ian said, taking it.
“You had a nasty Drang parasite,” Nora said. “Remnants might mess with you a bit, but it’s gone.” She shut her eyes and staggered into an empty seat. “I’m gonna go find some food and rest.”
Honshu escorted her down the aisle. “I’ll come with.”
Fletch looked at him. “There’s something you need to see for yourself. Something that will bring all this into focus.” He sat beside Ian accompanied by Ellis and Andi. “Before you go and throw in the towel on us, think we can take a field trip for the afternoon?”
“Don’t know what good it’ll do,” Ian said.
Andi strode to the bus driver. “Crew will be setting up for a bit and double-checking pyro for the show.” She whispered into his ear. He bobbed his head and checked his maps.
Ellis laced his hands behind his head. “Hamburg?”
Fletch smiled. “Hamburg.”
4.
The Kampnagel concert hall was closed to the public and devoid of people, save the cleaning staff and the performers. Strings and horns warmed up inside the main hall. Ian wandered into its dark foyer behind the others. “Why are we here again?”
Andi rubbed his arm. “You’ll see.”
Ian trailed the others into the concert hall and down toward the stage. Partial melodies intermingled and reverberated off the walls.
“War Bards is bigger than Guardian alone,” Fletch said in a quiet tone.
“Dozens of acts and groups,” Ellis said, “from all over the world. You have a huge network behind you.”
“These folks, though.” Fletch kept his eyes on the ensemble. “The International Symphony Orchestra is one of the big guns for the organization.”
Andi pointed to the conductor as she strode to her podium. “Check this out.”
The conductor sorted through the scores on her stand and fluffed her black curls. “I hope everyone had a lovely lunch.” She scratched her pear-shaped hip. “Hayden’s One Hundred Third from the top.” Her baton wagged at the timpanist. “Peter, we’ll follow your lead.”
While Peter maneuvered around his brass kettledrums with precision and bravado, Fletch bent in to Ian’s ear. “The ISO is one of many acts used to combat the Drang. War Bards is a big family. We need you in it.”
Wisps of a deep red hue flowed from the drums toward the lighting over the stage. As his roll decrescendoed, the magic diminished. The orchestra joined in, creating a broad, multi-colored sea of radiance. Their maestro moved her baton like a wand, commanding the magical substance into the form of a great phoenix.
Ian’s lower jaw hung agape. “Incredible.” His right calf burned with the heat of a dying ember. “Suppose I stay. What’s the catch?”
“Summoning the magical energy is easy,” Fletch said. “Casting the spell exacts a toll.”
Ian grinned. “There it is.”
“Takes time off your lifespan,” Andi said. “Look at some of the musicians past. They discovered their gift and burned through it. Cobain. Hendrix. Morrison.”
“Right.” The volume of Fletch’s voice increased amid the mighty fanfare. “The ISO deals mostly with the stronger enemies.”
Ellis leaned in to Ian’s other ear. “Different bands perform different tasks for the Bards. Like, Smitty’s Hot Five jazz combo collects intel and performs recon on the Drang. The intricate rhythms and complex harmonies allows them to sneak in for the covert stuff.”
“Other acts,” Andi said, “like Li’l Z, Talon, and us are on the front lines.”
“Don’t forget Daisy Mae,” Ellis said.
Fletch wagged a finger. “She’s probably the most important act we’ve got.”
Ian couldn’t quite comprehend how a twenty-something country star could be that valuable.
“She handles rescue operations and extractions when one of us ends up in the Veil---their dimension,” Fletch said.
Cold fear smacked Ian. “How does that happen?”
“In some battles,” Fletch said, “the Drang kidnap a person’s soul, sending them into a coma.”
A lightbulb flipped on in Ian. “Erik?”
Ellis nodded. “Got too cocky with one of them. Came after him and his family.”
Andi propped a high-top on the wall she leaned against. “He’s been in the Veil for weeks.”
“If you notice,” Fletch said, “Daisy and her band are in the studio at the moment working on new material. Haven’t toured in about as long.”
Ian’s eyes never left the morphing magical energy above the orchestra. It reshaped into a gryphon and reared on its hind legs. “Will he die in there?”
“It’s always possible,” Fletch said. “Usually, time stops for you in the Veil.”
“That’s why some musicians seem to live forever,” Ellis said. “Gotta be careful, though. Stay in the Veil too long and you’ll forget your way home.”
Ian turned to Fletch. “If the ISO’s in town, why us? Shouldn’t they fight this Drang that’s coming tonight?”
“They’ve got bigger fish to fry in Paris next week,” Andi said.
“And we’ll have one thing they won’t.” Fletch popped his brows a few times. “The Indrik.” He looked to Ian. “More like you’ll have it.”
Gooseflesh raced up Ian’s arms. “Me?”
“You’re our last line of defense,” Ellis said.
5.
RVs and vehicles crowded the fields for the first day of Wacken Open Air. Scores of fans hungry for rock and metal packed in close to the stage and its current offerings. The band onstage belted out an up-tempo tune to a mob of hungry listeners. Ian’s anxiety festered inside like the spoiled rot of a perfectly good apple. A clammy hand on the back of Ian’s arm startled him from his horrifying daydreams.
“Easy, man.” Ellis leaned against the tour bus’s front tire well. “Still tense?”
“Yeah.”
Ellis downed a swig of his water. “A standard response to a major gig, of course. But yours seems worse than normal.”
His stress finally poured over. “I joined you for this a couple of days ago. Sure, I’ve been a fan for a while, but it’s different playing with you guys. Add saving the galaxy on top of it?”
“Take it easy.” Ellis stroked the braid of red hair down the center of his scalp. “It’s a ton to shoulder. I get it. Can I ask you something?”
Ian sank onto the bottom step of the entrance. “Go ahead.”
“Why did you get into this? Music?”
Ian propped himself on his thighs. “My dad, mostly. He wanted to be a pro jazz guitarist. When my sister and I came along, his priorities changed. Suppose I wanted to accomplish a dream he had to kill.”
“Right.” Ellis drummed his fingers on his cargo shorts. “Think he’d be proud of you for what you’ve done to this point?”
A comforting warmth grew in Ian. “Sure.”
“Hell, yeah, he would.” Ellis’s gaze sailed out to the chanting crowd. “And if he was able to know the full depth of what you’re about to do?” He tipped his water bottle at Ian.
“If the only thing between certain destruction and survival is me,” Ian shuddered, “I don’t trust me. Do you?”
Fletch sat in the driver’s seat behind him. “You bet. You’ve gotta understand. You’re kind is one in several million.”
Nora snagged a soda can from a cooler at the bumper and moseyed over. “More like one in ten million.” She knelt in front of Ian. “I’m not easy to please. My methods aren’t popular, but everything’s riding on us---on you.”
Andi sat on the stair behind Ian and placed a leg on either side of him. “There’s no way we can do this without you.” She rubbed his back.
“She’s right,” Nora said.
Ian raised a brow at her.
“Forget what I said before.” Nora tapped his knee with a fist. “I need to find healthier ways to vent my own anxiety. We need you to pull this one out. There’s nobody else.”
Honshu poked out a window above him. “Just get out of your own way and you’ll be fine.”
Nora held up an open hand. “For however long you’re with us, you’re family.” She waited for him to take her hand. “Right?”
Ian slapped a hand in hers.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, pulling him up. “Let’s go enjoy some of the festival before we have to go on.”
“Best thing I’ve heard all morning,” Honshu said.
6.
Ian stood in the wings backstage behind a tall, black curtain. He searched the twinkling stars for answers. Pops. If you’re watching any of this, I could use your guidance about now. Honshu and Andi hung together near a travel crate tuning up.
The emcee on stage revved the audience up for the closing act of the night. “We’ve been saving the best for last, boys and girls.” He marched across the stage, his long hair wagging in his wake. “Your wait is almost over.”
Fletch slapped Ian on his shoulder. “That’s our cue.”
Ian took a deep breath and headed out onto his drum riser. The others strode into their places and checked their amp stacks. A sea of voices chanted, “Guardian! Guardian!”
The emcee glanced through the curtain and exchanged nods with Nora. “You wanted them, you’ve got them.” He swept an arm toward the curtain. “The one, the only. . . Guardian!”
As the curtain dropped, Ian hammered out a flurry of sixteenth notes on his snare and moved into a quick Bo Diddley beat on the toms. Fletch joined in with an ominous bass riff. Honshu and Andi jumped in with parallel melodies.
Nora grabbed her mic from the stand and walked the stage. “Good evening, Wacken!”
A roar from the crowd.
“Here’s a cut from our recent album,” she said. “Sing it if you know it. Behind the Eight!”
As the guitars switched into a fast metal riff, the steel emblem of a longhorn skull above the stage burst into flames. Fletch, Andi, and Honshu galloped to the front and worked the crowd, while they played through the opening verse and chorus. The air to Ian’s left rippled. A magical glowing crystal appeared encased in a translucent pink field. The Indrik. It was almost the size of his torso. The white crystal spun in deliberate circles, emitting prismatic colors. Purple forks of magical light streaked across the nighttime skies. Bellies of blood red clouds boiled, blotting out the firmament.
Fletch jogged to the drum riser and laid into his chorus riff. He glared at Ian. “It’s coming. Stay on top of the groove.” Ian followed Fletch’s gaze to the Indrik. “Protect it with your life.”
Fans in the first few rows whipped their hair around oblivious to the demonic creatures taking shape among them. Inky black energies converged, forming more of the gray-skinned monstrosities similar to Rod’s practice targets. These creatures, however, were much larger and more ferocious. Three of them tromped toward the stage from the far reaches of the audience. As the music died out from their first song, Fletch scurried around to the others whispering.
Nora paced the front of the stage. “How are we doing tonight, Wacken?” She held her mic out over the rambunctious audience. “I can’t hear you. You want more?” A loud ovation from the crowd.
Fletch leaned between Ian’s toms. “Time to spin up some sorcery.” He went to leave, but turned back around. “We’re all putting our faith in you.” He scampered out to join Nora.
“Let’s see how you like this one.” She skipped to Ian’s riser. “To Whom I Kneel!”
Ian counted them off and blasted into the gritty number. Colorful wisps of magical energy snaked from each of them. Andi point to the cheering crowd, then raised her finger to the approaching creature. Her power chords churned up a surge of magical power, pulsing around her guitar. She aimed her fretboard at the demon and launched a beam into its torso. The creature shrieked at the crater and countered with a blast of fire that engulfed Andi. She staggered away from the stage wing to her amps. Fletch and Nora filled the gap, sending a flurry of flaming spheres at the Drang monster. It howled and vaporized, releasing Andi from its torment. Ian’s instincts pushed him partway off his throne, but he soon sat back down. They don’t see it. Stopping a show for it would be disastrous. He continued through Honshu’s solo. Hun’s golden axe worked up a cluster of energy. He spun as he played, releasing a barrage of beams. The monster on the right side of the stage exploded in a cloud of gore and black vapor. The one in the center took heavy damage, but crawled through its pain for Nora. Its huge claw raked through the undulating beams of green and blue from the stage lighting. Nora ducked the swat poised to decapitate her and sang to the front row. Fletch and Andi stepped in behind her under flashing red and purple can lights. A sharp pair of guitar harmonies repelled the demon for a moment. Enraged, it climbed onto the stage as they neared the end of the song. Ian’s sticks flew in a blur around his drum kit. The extended fill shot a barrage of spear-shaped missiles out in a semi-circle. The searing white weapons pierced the Drang’s hide, sending it to oblivion in shreds. Towers of fire erupted on both sides of the stage as he ended the tune.
Nora strode to the wings and took a swig of water. She paced the stage in quick strides. “All right, Wacken.” She glanced at Ian and Fletch, then up to the boiling clouds. “It’s about that time.”
The crowd cheered. Pieces of the sky fell away in broken shards, making Ian’s courage plummet into his stomach.
Nora shouted into her mic, “Metal”, then aimed it at the crowd, who gave her the second half of the song’s title. “Defender!”
“Metal?”
“Defender!”
“All right.” She glared at Ian as she sauntered toward his riser. She lowered the mic to her side. “You screw this up, we all might die.” She snapped her fingers. “Kick us off.”
Ian’s bandmates looked to him, their eyes holding hopeful apprehension. A cleansing breath. His thighs pumped out an articulated thunder.
Nora skipped to the front and worked up the crowd. “We’re gonna need your help with this one tonight.”
Andi’s spidery fingers flew over her frets for the opening high-octane riff.
Nora walked the stage. “Are you with me?”
A sea of fists and horns rose into the sweeping spotlights.
“Are you with me?”
An even louder howl from the audience.
She bent over and whipped her hair as Fletch and Honshu filled out the tune. Ian kept watch on the skies as he transitioned into the first verse. A fissure opened up across the heavens. Chunks of reality fell away, leaving behind a black void. The Indrik hummed and pulsed at his side. A glowing magical sphere of sapphire blue formed at center stage. Cheers from their fans fed its power, increasing its size.
Nora belted out the chorus, encouraging the crowd to engage. “Metal. . .” She aimed her mic at the audience.
“Defender!”
She continued with the song. “Bastions of humanity from the powers of the dark.” She jogged to Honshu’s side of the stage. “Metal. . .”
“Defender!”
She hung an arm around Honshu’s neck. “Kill them all before they tear you apart.”
The orb of power now took up most of the stage. An enormous arm reached from beyond the black chasm in the heavens and ripped its wound wider. A huge torso emerged. Its scaly hide glistened with the light of a thousand stars. A wave of ice cold fear crashed into Ian.
Fletch hurried over during Ellis’s solo. “Don’t you dare slip now.”
Ian nodded and focused on his groove. Nora sauntered next to the Indrik and awaited Ellis’s final melodic phrase. When it arrived, she ran toward the orb and gave it a powerful uppercut. The sphere lengthened and slithered into a huge blue dragon. It spread its powerful wings and darted through the air toward the Drang invader. The dragon shrieked and locked its jaws around the interdimensional creature’s shoulder. The enraged Drang choked the serpent with one hand and cast a barrage of meteors toward the stage with the other.
Ellis’s tapestry of chords pushed a wall of yellow energy toward the incoming projectiles. With a few melodic arpeggios, he bent the magic to his will forming it into a huge shield. The Drang’s assaults hissed and broke apart on impact.
As Nora began the second verse, the stage lighting went black. Beams of blue and red laser light streaked up from the corners of the stage. A giant ring of lights came to life behind Ian and spun through the creeping fog onstage. Nora jabbed her mic at the spinning wheel of light. Two sections of the stage opened up on either side of Ian. His right calf burned like it had been jabbed with a glowing fire poker. Sweat stung his eyes. The toughest part of this song was right ahead of him.
Andi strode around the gigantic robots rising from beneath the stage to Ian’s riser. “This is it. Prove you belong.” She leaned against a towering robot as it came to rest onstage and grinded out the chord progression to the chorus.
The fire in Ian’s calf intensified and consumed his leg. He was slipping behind the beat again. The Drang’s fiery eyes glared from beyond their writhing dragon.
Fletch snapped his head around. “Keep it in the pocket.” He wandered to the other robot as its clunky legs propelled it forward.
Ian forced his muscles to churn through the pain. The strings of magic emanating from his kit rekindled and flowed to the robots. Their eyes shot red lasers out among the crowd. The Drang flung the flailing dragon earthbound, its blue form disappearing into the crowd and below ground. Power from the darkest corners of the Milky Way swirled into the Drang’s chest. It molded the energy between its outstretched hands into a sphere and hurled toward the stage. The robots focused their bionic eyes on the inbound object. Magical beams intercepted the scorching projectile and blew it apart to the incessant fury of the creature.
Nora fired the crowd up. Their cheers fed the robots and amped up the magical power. Another meteor from the Drang shattered the protective barrier surrounding the stage. Their shield fell apart in fading streams of gold. A tunnel of ruby energies pulsed from its hands and bathed the rest of the band. Honshu and Andi searched for their colorful wisps, but their instruments failed to produce bard magic. Fletch and Ellis found themselves in the same predicament.
Fletch hurried to Ian. “Get ready for a solo. It’s all on you.”
Nora stoked the crowd and pointed to the drum riser. “How about a little thunder from our newest member. Ian Hendrick on the drums!”
It was down to him and the Drang for the Indrik and the fate of the galaxy. His hands flowed across the array of toms instinctively. A groove reminiscent of those from the Flash Gordon movie surfaced. Always loved watching that with pops. A helix of golden light spiraled off his drums. Laser light flashed off his crashing cymbals. His summoned power coalesced into a spinning globe above him. The dragon resurfaced and crawled among the crowd, its light fading. The sensation of a burning blade dug into his right calf. Ian’s skin changed to bland, scaly flesh. The Drang aimed a hand at him and twisted clockwise. Control over his leg faded. A black hole spread inside Ian, breaking pieces of him into a subatomic singularity. Strength and willpower drained into the Drang’s vortex. A winged demon flew onto the stage and strode to the Indrik unchallenged. It shouted at Ian, sounding like metal grinding on metal.
Fletch ran around a robot to the riser. “Cast your spell!”
Ian’s hands flew over the kit guided by instinct. His golden energy formed into a husky dwarf, wielding a mighty battle axe. The pain pushed his bones to the brink of snapping. The Drang hissed. Memories. Knowledge of playing drums. It all slipped from Ian’s mental grasp. The Drang shredded his consciousness and everything he was from the inside out.
Andi and Honshu attempted to block the winged creature from the Indrik, but it dropped both to their knees. The demon strode to the crystal and wrapped its claws around the galactic power source. Gray scales climbed up Ian’s thigh. I’m sorry, pops. Guess I blew it big time.
“Ian?” Andi struggled to her feet. “Fight it.”
Nora rushed to his other side. “Don’t you quit on me.”
Ian concentrated on the core of his being, a shining figure of light in the spreading void within him. The concert. The cheers. All fell quiet. The warm light intensified, enveloping him in familiar protection and the scent of---Old Spice? Pops? His dad’s voice was tender but forceful: “This is your moment, Ian. Grab onto it with both hands and don’t let go. I’m proud of you, son.” The demon reached for the Indrik.
Fletch slung his bass to his back. “Ian. Cast it now!”
Warmth and blood flow crept back into Ian’s leg. As he hammered out a groove, his magical dwarven warrior rekindled. It swung its axe down, severing the arms off the demon. Ian kept up the pattern, feeding his combatant with fresh magic. The dwarf responded with a cutting swat at the monster’s head. The demon leaped into the air over the Indrik and unleashed a plume of flame into the warrior. Ian changed his groove and the dwarf raised its weapon high overhead amid the fire. Its battle axe sliced through the phantom flames and hacked the demon in two. Ian’s leg was his own once more. His solo fed the dwarf and the dragon both. The Drang screamed and drew in more of its magic, ripping more seams of reality apart. The blue dragon sprung into stars and billowed a pillar of matching fiery magic.
“It’s working,” Ellis said. “Keep going.”
Their dragon clutched the Drang in one claw and raked it with the other. Ian summoned his last ounce of strength. Golden tendrils of his magic fed the robots onstage until they pulsed with his energies. Both robots turned their laser eyes on the Drang and opened fire. Their beams pierced the screeching monster, blasting the Drang into thousands of shooting stars.
“I knew you had it in ya!” Fletch leaped off his drum riser and broke into the chorus riff for Metal Defender.
Glowing auras resurfaced around Ian’s bandmates as they played the end of their anthem hit. After they finished the song, Nora jogged to his side behind the drums.
“Another huge round of applause for our rhythm doctor!” She tugged Ian to his feet. “Get up here and greet your crowd.”
Ian wanted to preserve this moment and its magic in his memories forever. The roar from the sea of adoring fans. Swooping stage lights that froze faces in time. He kissed his sticks and raised them high. “We did it, pops.”
