A Meeting of Wolves

Year: ? ? ?

Time: Night

His weapons were not on him, that was the first coherent thought that made shape in Reese's mind as he returned to consciousness; the comfortable weight of his SIG-Sauer, the flash grenade, his knife, his other knife, nor even his extra clips or his flashlight, were on his person. He took in his surroundings as he could without opening his eyes; if it was anyone who was in any way observant, they would notice his change in breath, but he thought it best he not jump directly into the situation without scouting it as he could.

He lay on what he guessed was his usual black coat on hard earth, his head pillowed on some sort of sturdy cloth. Wind whispered through trees and an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. The warmth of a fire beat on his side and lit the inside of his eyelids with bright red.

"Are you recovered enough to talk, stranger?" A deep, vibrant voice asked from across the fire. The voice was accented; British, Reese thought, but couldn't pinpoint from where in the British Isles. It seemed a little archaic, not similar in diction to any of the British soldiers he had met over the years.

The man already knew Reese was awake, so he decided to answer. He opened his eyes, the light of the fire making him squint and lancing into an already pounding head. Of the owner of the sepulchral voice, he saw nothing; the fire tactically hampered his view into the night shadows from where the voice issued. He answered the man, "Yes."

"God has favored me this day with your presence, for it has been long since I have had a chance to speak in the tongue of my native land."

"Who are you?"

"I am Solomon Kane, once of a small town in Devonshire but now a landless wanderer."

"Where are we?"

"I know not what country claims this land; we are above France and west of Saxony."

That was the name of no country Reese knew, but he felt as though he were being especially obtuse, his brain slowing down and he suddenly felt sick but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up and he held back the urge to dry vomit.

"You always talk like you're from Shakespeare?"

"Strange arms you bear, fellow," Solomon mused, seemingly ignoring Reese's dry query, "I have never seen their like in make nor perfection."

Reese didn't know what to make of the comment, so he ignored it and asked, "You gonna stay in the shadows all night?"

A tall, lean man stepped into the firelight. Reese suppressed the urge to groan, for the man was dressed all in black, a bright green sash tied around his waist into which two flintlock pistols were tucked, weathered leather boots clad his feet, a rapier hung from a sheath on a baldric slung around his shoulders, a plain slouch hat rested on his head, and in his hand he carried a strangely carved cat-headed staff. Either Reese had fallen in with a seventeenth century reenactor or he was actually in the seventeenth century. Based on his recent interactions with The Doctor, he decided to bet the latter.

"Know you how you came here?" Solomon asked, sinking down onto his haunches before the fire. He held Reese's weapons in his hand; he did not give them back to Reese, but instead laid them on the damp ground beside himself. He laid odd the staff across his knees and stared calculatingly at Reese for a moment before turning his glance to the fire.

Reese did not know. He remembered he had been chasing down some street punks connected to their newest Number and had followed them down into the subway station and onto a service ledge in the tunnel. One had dodged into a door along the side, one he had decided to pursue and ended up in a strange room full of electronic equipment that was like nothing he had ever seen - and he'd seen some interesting technology in his time with Finch. There had been a hum as everything had clicked to life, a flash, jumbled pictures that made no sense, and then he had woken here.

"No, I don't."

"You came not of your free will?" Solomon stirred the fire with a stick, pushing a stray branch back onto the main conflagration.

"No, not exactly vacation of my choice."

"Then I shall tell you of your appearing; I have never seen the like in all my wanderings. It was as though the fabric of the world had been torn, and a storm of things beyond my ken seemed to swirl within a great hole; then I saw lightning and cloud that thundered without sound and you appeared from it and fell to the ground and it disappeared." Though Solomon's attention appeared to be on the fire, Reese could tell that the man's attention was devoted to himself and to the surrounding countryside and he was coiled tight as a snake ready to strike. "You had and have no injuries that I can discern, yet only time can be the best physician, proving illness or healing it."

Solomon stood up, his hard gray eyes meeting Reese's own in a glance like a thrust of cold steel. His voice shifted from a polite neutrality to clipped words, cold and hard-edged, "You have been silent and I have been patient out of courtesy, fellow, but now I should like to know your names and allegiances."

Reese knew he was in the presence of a dangerous man, he could see his own training and reflexes reflected in every movement and glance Solomon made. He saw the movements of a killer and the instincts of a lean wolf that has been tried and tested in the harsh wilds of the world. He decided to be as truthful as he could, "I've had lots of names, but now I'm called John Reese. I work for a weird little man I call my friend, and together we have an 'allegiance' to saving the lives of innocent people and stopping bad ones."

Solomon's eyes searched Reese's own for a moment, scrutinizing his eyes with an intensity Reese had only experienced from two other people. Reese held the gaze, not backing down, but not challenging Solomon either.

Solomon's piercing glance relented, and his sepulchral voice lost its edged coldness, becoming almost hearty, "Methinks I like you, John; you are a man of blood, that is obvious to any man, but I find confirmed by the voice of verity through your words what my spirit sensed, that you are a man who seeks the good of others and the downfall of evil."

Solomon gathered up Reese's weapons and laid them within Reese's easy reach, "This comrade or lord of yours, you say he is a 'weird' man. Be he holy man or wizard?"

"You could call him a wizard," Reese replied, the edges of his lips quirking upward as he imagined the expression that would have been on Finch's face had he heard the conversation.

"If he be one, he cannot be far from salvation if he seek to protect the innocent," Solomon considered, handing Reese some bread and some water in a small bowl, "I have a blood-brother who is much similar; though he use the arts of magic, he is a goodly man who protects the innocent and worships not the Devil nor engages in unholy sacrifice - it was that man who gave me my staff, said to be even from the days of Solomon the Wise and wielded in his hand against all manner of foul demons."

Reese really didn't know what to say to that. "I just hope he finds me. Though seeing what's happened, it'll probably be the Doctor ."

Solomon's face darkened, "I do not hold well with these doctors of the faith; they seek to use the word of God to oppress those that do not hold the same beliefs as them - forebearing the wisdom of the philosophers of old and allowing thoughts to be spoken from different mouths that the truth may hammered out among them – and twist words to press the common folk into servitude to governments in which there is no justice."

Reese dug into his food, qualifying, "Where I come from 'doctor' means someone who heals people. And that's what he does; he heals bad situations, stops bad things from happening, rescues people."

Solomon's face cleared. "I have heard this strange usage once, a long time ago and about much the same sort of person."

"Probably him."

The first in a series of strange, rhythmic clanking, rattling screeches had Reese and Solomon on their feet, weapons in hand, all but the actions that meant survival forgotten. The sounds grew louder, almost unbearable to the ear. A rider came into view and Reese realized their camp was situated by a road. A great black figure seemed to be hunched over the neck of a skull-headed steed, the abomination's six legs pounding furiously into the ground. Reese felt a quality of a nightmare come over his vision as he tried to process a creature that appeared to be something between a skeletal black horse and an ant.

It was unclear (even with the bright light of the full moon) in the brief instant they saw it, whether the rider was, in fact, a rider or whether it were two creatures melded in one, or purely one creature. But what they did see was the rider's eyes, burning like flaming yellow suns from under its hood, and the small figure clutched in one of its four arms. The child's mouth was open, his screaming buried beneath the creature's unearthly din.

Reese's SIG-Sauer and one of Solomon's pistols rang out as one. They ricocheted off the creature and the rider, seeming to have no effect. Solomon's other shot hit the rider in one of its shoulders, raising from it a grating screech that nearly had the duo dropping their weapons to cover their ears. One of Reese's other shots hit a joint in one of steed's legs and a metallic scream as the leg froze up and the momentum tore it from the body. The creature did not stop, but thundered on, the sound fading into the distance.

"What the hell was that?" Reese asked tersely, replacing his clip.

"Some unholy fiend I mean to soon ease of life," Solomon replied grimly, "Aught than that, I stand in as much ignorance as yourself, John."

"What do you say we do that together?" Reese matched Solomon's grim tone. He cocked his gun. "I'll be damned if I stand by and let that kid get hurt."

Solomon put his pistols away, and grabbed up his staff from where he had let it fall. "I have felt a wrongness in the world for a long time as I have wandered this land; upon our meeting and its strange happening, I thought it might be you - but you, I think, are perhaps the only thing that is in its right place. Aye, John, let us to the hunt, and together end the evil blight upon this land."

Author's note: All right, kids, this is where it gets complicated; this is actually a three-way crossover with Robert E. Howard's character Solomon Kane. Don't worry; if you don't know who he is, that's fine, I won't be going into the obscurity of his lore, and anything I do I will explain. All you need to know is that he's (well, very loosely) a Puritan and a monster hunter from the 1600s and that this meeting between Reese and Solomon is what gave me the idea for the story. If you know who Solomon Kane is, you're probably wondering how the frick this is going to work. Trust me. Also, I am not trying to replicate exact seventeenth century dialogue with Solomon, just how R.E.H. had him speak, but on from there I take any responsibility for Solomon not sounding authentic (i.e. not like himself).