by Lola StVil
The terrain gradually descends. The air gets cooler, and everyone’s chilled. At one point Atlas holds up her hands and creates a spark and a little sphere of flame; it immediately goes out but not before radiating a burst of heat for the whole group. Impressed again, I follow, just slightly behind her. Once she glances to me, and I see longing in her eyes, but then it’s back to the path ahead.
“How much lo…” Perry starts, then checks himself. “Uh, is that a river of death I smell?”
Remedy wrinkles her nose and turns towards her twin. “Nasty.”
“I think something—a lot of somethings—died around here,” Regal says. “Seriously foul.”
“It’s going to get worse,” I add. “Unless one of the witches would like to create a little breeze from the east to save our noses.”
“On it,” Quinn says, chanting, and immediately we all feel a breath of slightly fresher, but still quite stale air. “At least some elemental powers still work here.”
Atlas is even farther ahead now, and I scramble to keep up. Mason and Langston are next behind me, with the others trudging along behind. Down a dusty incline with volcanic-like boulders strewn about, we skirt a gaping crack in the ground, even as something down there hisses and a yellowish steam issues forth, quickly blown away by the wind.
“There it is,” I call out, pointing to the immense riverbank at the bottom of this hill, where the land levels out. The waters themselves…eerily still and completely black. You’d only know it’s a river by the reflection of the white fang-shaped clouds on its surface. And the fact that there are two sailboats tethered to rocks at the shore.
“Those for us?” Mason wonders.
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s split up. We won’t all fit in one. And Quinn, go in that one, you’ll need wind power.” Atlas and I take the closest one, and the twins join us, and then I think of something else.
“What I said before holds double now. Not a damn sound as we cross this water.”
“Why?” Langston asks as Mason gives her boat a light shove and then gracefully jumps in to join the others. They lift the sail at the same time we do.
“Because…look down.”
Everyone peers over the edge and see what I know is there. Through the blackness, as their eyes adjust, shapes can be seen in the depths. Creatures slumbering. A mutated mix of human and fish: almost completely pale, hairless, and eyeless. Jagged talons, a long whip-like tail, and gruesomely sharp teeth.
“Not a sound. Don’t disturb the water.”
Atlas calls up a gentle wind, matching Quinn’s a short distance to our left, and our wooden boats creak gently as they softly cut through the water, heading to the mist-shrouded opposite bank. We move quickly, and it’s almost like a race. For a moment, Atlas smiles as she looks at the beings on the boat. Everyone’s finally relaxing.
“Not a bad cruise, though they could use a buffet. Nothing fancy. Maybe a taco bar or omelet station,” Perry says.
“Can you stop thinking about food for one minute, you greedy nut ball?” Quinn says.
“I am as Orah made me,” Perry reminds her. I roll my eyes and remind myself to punch him when and if we ever get back.
“Perry, enough,” Mason says. We are back at the prow, and the bank eventually nears. I look down uneasily, seeing the arms and tails, the misshapen heads and pale bodies down there. So far so good…
“Whoa,” someone says. It’s Perry. I’m about to wring his damn neck when I realize he’s not making a joke. He’s genuinely in awe of something. I look to my left, and he’s leaning over the edge, gazing down at the army of Poyote, when his elbow catches the spool of rope they’d coiled up after we disembarked.
“Perry, stop!” I call out, but of course it’s too late. The rope teeters on the edge of the rail—and then falls, making a huge splash, followed by subsequent splashes as the rest of the rope unspools and slides into the river. Perry grabs the very last foot of rope, then looks up at the others, then at me, mouth open.
“Sorry…”
But of course, by then it’s too late. I leap to Atlas at the prow, grip her shoulder, and yell to her so Quinn can hear too: “Full wind power now!”
Then we’re ripping through the waves in the gusts of wind, pulling ahead of the other ship and nearing the shore.
“Don’t slow down!” I yell to Atlas. “Get to shore, and get out of the boat. They can’t follow us on land.”
“But—” Atlas starts, but her words are lost between the gale winds and the sound of timber breaking and the screams from the other boat. I leap into the air, past Regal and Remedy, who are at the stern, starting to work some magic.
Then I’m leaping into the wind, and despite the gravity, I have just enough strength to close the distance and land behind the sail of the other ship, on the deck between Langston and Perry. The rope is yanked by something down there, and I draw my sword and sever the line just in time.
Now we have no choice but to fight. We’re in the middle of all hell breaking loose. The water explodes on all sides, and the Poyote blast up from the depths. Slimy, angry, and extremely…hungry.
The next minutes—or hours—I don’t really know down here, are lost in a blur of battle. Langston thinks the most strategically and calls down a lightning storm the likes of which I’ve never seen; five or six bolts strike the water—and the hordes of Poyote swarming on the surface like salmon are literally sizzled to death. Their squealing cries cut the night, but only serve to raise others from the safer depths.
They fire like missiles out of the water, arcing towards us—only to be cut down by my sword on one side, Mason’s on the other. Quinn has given up on calling the wind, as too many of the creatures have landed on the mast and torn through the sail. Now they’re scampering onto the deck—only to be crushed by Saudia’s plasma hugs, struck by Langston’s lightning blasts, or…have their insides pulverized by Quinn’s vibrational energy.
I slice two more heads off these things, grab one by the tail, and cause shadow fire to burn before it can turn on me. But then I hear a scream. Something’s got Quinn, pulling her over the side, and she’s gone in a splash!
“No!” I hear Atlas yell, and I glimpse her ahead through the tsunami of Poyote still bursting out of the water and climbing over the boat’s rail or wriggling up from holes in the deck. The other boat has landed, and Atlas and the twins are out on the shore, looking on helplessly. We’re about twenty yards away, caught—and sinking!
Perry screams at my side, and then he’s leaping into the midst of the creatures in the boat, blasting them with a giant web of crimson agony. Glad to know he’s good for something another than a punch line. He’s got some serious skills; they all do.
Six of the monstrous creatures are paralyzed with pain—and lodged in the holes, effectively plugging them for now, leaving me time to cut down as many others as I can. Mason’s doing the same, ripping through torsos, hacking off heads and tails. I’m trying to make my way to the prow to go after Quinn, but then I see her—yanked out of the water, ripped free from a Poyote who had her with his talons.
Regal’s levitating her up into the air; and then she’s flung back to him on the shore, where Remedy helps catch her. Hopefully Regal will get to healing her wounds, but…
Our boat tips in a concerted effort by the things down there, all hitting the starboard side, trying to knock us over. More Poyote are crawling over the side, or leaping into the air and landing all around us.
Damn it!
Lightning crackles again, frying another group before they can get to us, but we have to move. One more hit and we’ll flip and then—
Suddenly, I see the surge below the waves. Hundreds of them are coming for us! But just before impact, the boat is caught and secured in a layer of ice that solidifies over the river.
“Atlas!” As I feel the rush of arctic cold, I’m cheering inside as I see her, hair flowing, hands outstretched and fingertips directing the elements. Freezing the water ahead of her as she
runs to me, to us…
The ice spreads, thickens and constricts around the Poyote, crushing their bones and cartilage, popping their skulls, and creating a bridge to the shore.
“Run!” I yell, and everybody leaps over the side to the ice. Everyone except Perry, who’s got his left leg stuck in the frozen sludge at the bottom.
“Damn it, Perry!”
“Crap.” He looks up helplessly. “You can leave me… It’s all my fault.”
“First honest thing you’ve said,” I reply. “But then who can we pick on?” I melt the ice with a fireball, then grab and toss him over the side to land on the ice way up ahead.
In moments, I’m with the others on the shore, where Regal’s doing his best to heal wounds. A few Poyote crawl up onto the ice bridge and start writhing towards us, making horrible sounds of fury, but Quinn and Langston join together and hit them with everything they’ve got, dispatching them two or three at a time.
“Let’s go,” Atlas shouts over their screams. Back to business, she’s already heading off towards a narrow tunnel leading through a wall of granite that spans as far as I can see. She’s determined, and I run to catch up. I need to tell her what’s to come, and to be prepared, but when I catch her, we’re in the tunnel.
In just a few more moments, it opens up into a square-shaped area ahead, surrounded on either side by thick black walls that rise up into the mist, with no sign of sky up there at all.
“What the hell is this?” Mason asks, coming up behind me, ahead of the others.
“It’s a challenge,” I say. “A test.” I point, but Atlas sees it too.
“The veil,” she says, stepping ahead before I can warn her. About forty feet ahead of her, there’s a staircase rising out from the mist and leading out of this cavern. But just before the steps is a veil, luminous and white, suspended in the air.
“That’s the prize we need,” I say. “But…”
Atlas freezes. At her feet, a six-by-six square has just lit up in a violet-colored neon outline, with letters glowing around her.
“What’s it say?” Quinn asks.
I try to move towards her to read it, but find I’m frozen too. Rooted to the spot—as are all the others. We all look at each other, alarmed. Can’t move anything but our heads and arms. Atlas looks back, a little confused, but not scared.
“It’s a riddle,” she says, then turns back and looks ahead. Three squares ahead of her light up—all different colors, and I can barely make out images on each one.
“A question. With three possible answers.”
“Guess honestly!” I yell out to her.
“Otherwise…” Perry clears his throat. “You’re stuck with the lifetime supply of ramen noodles; worst, all beef flavor.” I regret that he’s too far away for me to reach and smack from here.
“Something tells me this isn’t the time to lie, so whatever it asks, be honest like the demon said,” Mason replies.
Suddenly my heart leaps as I see her move. “Atlas!”
“Don’t worry,” she calls back, having leapt and landed on the square diagonally to her left. “Easy one. It asked What do I miss most? And there was an image of a white rose.” She looks back to me.
“Your mom,” I say gently, and nod.
“I got this,” she says. “I think. It’s reading my mind, or even my soul. All I have to do is answer correctly, and the path will take me to the veil—and then up and out of this hellish place.”
Mason shakes his head. “Be careful of any tricks.”
“And just be honest,” I add, giving him a dry look. She waves us off, reads what’s at her feet, then scans the board ahead and to the sides. Thinks a minute, then gives me a sly smile.
“What am I most vulnerable to? A bunch of options, all like the seven deadly sins.” She crouches, then leaps ahead one square, then looks back to me, giving a seductive smile. “I’ll take Lust…”
Mason coughs, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head.
“TMI,” Perry mutters, but then Atlas has jumped again, diagonal now to her right. Getting closer to the veil.
“Another easy one,” she yells back. “Images of horses, in response to asking what I worry about inheriting from my father: his gambling issues.”
“Good,” I call out, “but be careful. It might get more…honest.”
“And you don’t have to tell us everything,” Perry says. “I mean, we can’t see anyway, so if we all die—or she dies, well, we’ll know it was a bad guess and all.”
“Shut up,” Langston hisses.
“Okay,” Atlas calls out. “This may be the last one. One of three more squares to land on, then no more before the veil. I think it’s easy enough. That which I fear.” She scratches her head. “Choices are: A skull and sickle. Obviously Death. Then a black ribbon. Mourning. And… black wings…with a scar on one.”
I think for a moment. “Atlas…”
“I don’t want to mourn,” she says, and her voice cracks. “Has to be it. Don’t want to lose you. Any of you…”
Looking back at us, she takes the step forward.
“Atlas!” I call out, desperate to make her stop and think. “It’s not what you don’t want, but what you fear…”
I think she hears it in my voice, and she knows. She wasn’t honest. The black wings… the scar. It’s me. Losing any of us would be undesirable, but what makes her truly afraid? She’s not honest enough to admit it: that she fears her feelings for me…
But it’s too late. She knows it now, just as her foot touches down.
The ground shakes, the walls tremble, and dust rains upon us. Great tears open up in the granite—and pale, bony fingers with sharp talons reach through the cracks.
“Oh shit,” Regal whispers. “Not Poyote again!”
“Much worse,” I say. “Atlas!”
She meets my eyes, and I know she understands. With a great leap forward, aided by a gust of wind below her she calls up just in time, she just catches the edge of the veil. She rips it free of its magical hold and lands outside the board.
“Come on!” she shouts—just as the walls explode all around us, and hideous, monstrous demonic things burst free. Horns and reptilian eyes, armor-like dragon scales and rippling arms, legs, tails, and jaws.
Reflexes kick in and we’re all unleashing our powers, blasting with fire, wind, earth, and plasma, slashing with swords, keeping the attackers at bay long enough to run through them towards the stairs. They just keep coming, pouring out from the rubble and the darkness, swarming over each other and their dead. Fast, relentless, and hungry for our souls.
The stairs are narrow, fortunately, and we funnel through, with Mason and me at the rear, guarding the rest. As the creatures—whom I recognize now as the Dama, the most feared and toughest minions of this realm—have to converge and come at us only a few at a time, we can hack and burn and blast them back, for now.
But they’re leaping and climbing over each other. Mason’s light sword is doing damage, causing a thunderclap and bright burst of energy with each kill, dazing the others and buying us some more time.
“Go!” he shouts. “I’m right behind you.”
I rip a few more black fireballs down at the Dama onslaught, then run, reaching the top of the stairs, and find the others on a narrow bridge. In seconds, we’re all running, with Mason running hard behind us.
I look down, but can’t see a thing but oily blackness, and I sense a great, great depth. Atlas is at my side now, the veil tucked inside her shirt. We’re racing with the others, toward the archway coming up at the end of the bridge. It’s glowing and pulsing with rainbow-like swirls.
“The portal!” I shout, and we all see it. I glance back, and I wish I hadn’t. Mason, with two of the creatures on his back, struggles to dislodge them as he’s running towards us. He’s pursued by the entire horde, gaining on us.
Atlas skids to a stop, but I’m jostled by Regal and Langston, who don’t slow down. By the time I recover and turn around, Atlas is m
oving back to help Mason. Her hands are swirling, incantations echoing off the distant hills and coming back from the depths.
Suddenly, cyclones of swirling winds, lit up by lightning flashes, touch down from the shadows, right behind Mason, right in the midst of the Dama. Their bodies are scattered left and right, and high into the sky. These two tornadoes just blast the monstrous creatures off the bridge without a care, hundreds of their broken bodies tossed into the abyss…
Leaving just the two on Mason. He grabs one, rips it off his back, and then gives it a huge kick over the side. But the other clamps its jaws on his throat. He drops his sword.
“Mason!” someone screams behind me, and I’m leaping now, my sword raised. But the gravity is too heavy and I land short. Have to take a few more strides. Mason meets my eyes—and they’re full of pain and…acceptance.
“Go!” he chokes out as he backs up, staggering from another bite from the creature. Suddenly dozens more emerge from under the bridge, where they’d scuttled to evade the cyclones. They swarm up and around, right in front of me, and half of them leap onto Mason—and after one more flailing motion, he falls back, taking them with him over the edge. Mason Mills, the leader of the Maitoe, is dead.
“Noooo!” Atlas screams, and then a wave of pure fire rages past me, incinerating the remaining horde of creatures coming towards us.
I grab her hand in the aftermath, as the blackened, smoking monsters turn to ash and are scattered by the flailing tornados. And as more Dama struggle up the stairs and tear on ahead and under the bridge again, the team is too shocked and taken aback to move.
“Hey, there are more of those assholes heading for us. We have to go!” I shout.
“NO! Mason! We have to get Mason back!”
“Atlas, we need to move. Now,” I assure her. She looks into my eyes and nods. Suddenly, behind her a Dama that managed to survive the attack springs to life. It tackles Atlas from behind; I teleport seconds before certain death. We reappear in the alley by the loft. Atlas’s team won; they have the veil in hand. However, they are minus a leader…
The Alliance is celebrating. The fact is many of them never thought a human would actually locate the item, let alone secure it. The Shadow world is impressed; well, some are impressed and others are furious.