Etheric Apocalypse

by C M Raymond et al.

  Astrid chuckled. “Sure, kid. Whatever you say!” She was grateful for the help.

  But the rumbling sound behind them had them turning slowly.

  A scaly four-legged beast lumbered their way. It was ten feet tall at the shoulder. It lifted its spiked tail over its head and charged.

  The only direction open to them was straight into a wave of Skrima.

  A red form streaked by from their right, and Arryn nearly took it out with an ice spike.

  “No!” Astrid shouted. “That’s Boone!”

  But even as she shouted that warning, Boone revealed himself with a barrage from his magitech blasters. He had all four going at once and dropped twenty Skrima in a matter of seconds.

  They had a clear line now. What had started out as a wave was now a small group that the three of them dealt with easily, but it slowed them down.

  “Look out!” Astrid shouted.

  “I see it!” Arryn replied quickly. She took careful aim at a Skrim in front of her while the giant Skrim behind them slashed at her with its tail.

  Astrid tackled her, and the tail slammed into the ground. The shockwave sent them both flying in a spray of dirt.

  When they looked up, they found Boone attached to the monster’s head by two of his arms. He blasted away at its eyes with his pistols while the thing screamed in deafening agony and tried to shake Boone off.

  Arryn conjured even larger ice spikes, which formed from thin air and pegged its feet to the ground. Boone kept blasting away until there was little left of its skull.

  He hopped off the thing and holstered his pistols.

  “Thank you, Julianne,” he said.

  “I’m Arryn,” she replied, blinking in confusion.

  Boone stepped closer and brought his eye stalks together. He adjusted his straw hat and straightened out the flowers which by some miracle had not fallen off.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “What?” Arryn shook her head in exasperation and looked at Astrid.

  “He’s not from around here,” Astrid replied.

  “Thanks for saving our asses,” Arryn replied. “Even though you don’t know who I am.”

  “Most of you humans look the same to me, but I know now. Must go. Bye,” Boone told them, then took off on his alien legs toward another battle.

  Now that their gambit with the fire had failed, it seemed there were more Skrima than ever. Dustin was doing what he could, but his skills were best utilized at a distance. Parker had disappeared in the fray. Karl was the only one next to him, and the rearick was doing most of the heavy lifting.

  A wave of the beasts pressed forward, and it looked as if they were going to swallow him whole. Dustin raised his staff, but before he could use the magitech again a woman darted forward, stepping between him and the creatures. Her sword moved like liquid fire, dispatching five before Dustin had time to catch his breath.

  When she’d finished with the group, she turned and pressed her lips quickly against his. “You all right, husband?”

  He grinned at Abbey. “I’m still alive, thanks to you and a flying rearick.”

  “Flying rearick?” she asked, shaking her head. Then she nodded toward the rift. “Looks like your little fire went out.”

  “Trust me, I’ve still got enough left for you.”

  Karl glared at them like he was going to puke again. “If ya lovebirds are done with yer canoodlin’, we could use yer help wi’ the battle.”

  Actually, we could use more steel near the frontlines. This time it was Hadley calling the command. Karl hoped that it didn’t mean something had happened to Julianne.

  “Wish I could get over there,” Karl muttered. “There’s some heads needin’ ta meet the broadside o’ me hammer.”

  “Actually, my husband just gave me a great idea.” Without another word, Abbey grabbed the rearick under his arms.

  The world spun, and he felt the strange sensation of weightlessness. A sudden wind lifted them upward and toward the isolated group of Skrima.

  “Could one o’ ya damn women ask before manhandlin’ me? I’m a rearick, dammit, not a piece of meat!” he shouted.

  “I know you don’t like flying,” Abbey replied as they reached the Skrima. “But this is about to get a lot more fun. Ready?”

  “Ready fer wha—”

  Before he’d finished speaking, Abbey let go of him. He instantly returned to his normal weight and dropped the ten feet to the ground, his hammer raised. When he crashed on top of a Skrim and his hammer slammed against its skull, he had to admit Abbey had been right. This was more fun.

  Abbey dove toward the ground a moment later, leading with her sword. She slid the tip into a Skrim and used its suddenly-lifeless body to break her fall.

  As Karl slammed his hammer into another Skrim’s arm, he saw an axe slice through the air. Garrett was standing next to him.

  He shot Karl a look. “Nice o’ ya ta join us, old man.”

  He held up his hammer to show him it had already been used plenty. “Just in time ta save yer sorry arse. Now, stop yer complainin’ and get ta killin’, or I’ll whup yer skinny arse next. This battle’s just getting started.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dustin wasn’t sure how he’d gotten separated from the others. With Skrima everywhere, so was the fight. He’d started out near the portal, but had been drawn away by one crisis after another. He had saved Karl, then Abbey, and helped Julianne out of a tight spot. Now, he found himself alone behind enemy lines.

  Was there a line? It was hard to tell.

  He didn’t have time to think, and that was the problem. All he could do was react.

  Dustin parried with his magitech staff, and Skrim claws clamped down and nearly tore the weapon from his hands. He planted the staff and hit the two attackers with a blast of wind. It worked.

  He clutched the staff under his left arm and blasted away with it, knocking more Skrima back, then finished them off with bolts of lightning from his right hand. But these monsters demonstrated a grasp of basic strategy.

  They seemed to recognize that they were dying quickly when they formed solid lines, so they split into smaller groups and began to peck at him. A group of three would lunge and he’d kill a couple, then they’d retreat to join another group while a different team would attack.

  A claw that would have slashed his throat had he been a second slower slashed his cheek.

  But it was the one he didn’t see that took him to the ground. It was on top of him, trying to gut him with its claws. He tried his best to keep the staff between him and it, but exhaustion had nearly defeated him.

  A roar split the air, then the Skrim was simply gone. A bearded face with rosy cheeks and a handlebar mustache loomed over him.

  “Hello, down there!” Vinnie said cheerfully as he pulled Dustin up with one hand and nearly took the head off a charging Skrim with his other fist.

  “Fancy meeting you here!” Dustin exclaimed. Vinnie ducked when Dustin thrust his staff forward and blasted a Skrim that was about to slice off part of Vinnie’s ear.

  “Pardon me,” Dustin said with exaggerated courtesy. He set off chain lightning among a team of four Skrima who’d thought they had a chance.

  Vinnie’s eyes went wide at something over Dustin’s shoulder, and the Storm Caller turned to see a horde of Skrima barreling toward them.

  “Wait!” Dustin half-shouted when he found himself over Vinnie’s shoulder.

  “Put me down!” he urged. Vinnie had picked him up like a toddler. “What the hell are you doing?”

  He’d heard about the big man’s Irth magic, but watching the ground open like a mouth was strange and beautiful at the same time.

  Vinnie put him down. “Sorry, I didn’t want to leave you there. We have to hurry. I’m almost too tired to keep using magic.”

  Vinnie ran...forward? It was hard to tell. He made a slight turn, and the tunnel rumbled closed behind them. That closing soil was getting closer.

  “How do
you know where you’re going?” Dustin asked nervously.

  “I have an impeccable sense of direction,” Vinnie announced.

  Dustin could see that the tunnel angled upward by the light from Vinnie’s glowing left hand. They burst through the soil and stood in the middle of what looked like the Skrima army. They were surrounded.

  It took the monsters a few seconds to recognize their good fortune, which was about the same amount of time it took for the humans to realize their misfortune.

  Dustin shook his head slowly and gritted his teeth. “Impeccable sense of direction,” Dustin mumbled with a clenched jaw.

  Vinnie arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “Most of the time.”

  The Skrima pounced.

  Vinnie dropped into a forward lunge and placed both palms on the ground. The ground rippled as if it were a pond and Vinnie was a rock dropped into it. All the Skrima fell to the ground—and so did Dustin.

  “Dammit!” he shouted, then shoved himself upright.

  Vinnie used his gauntleted fists to bash Skrima back while Dustin swung his staff so hard it cut the air with a whooshing sound.

  The Skrima closed in.

  “Make another tunnel!” Dustin shouted.

  “I could,” Vinnie replied, “but we’d never get out. I don’t have enough strength left.”

  They fought a few seconds longer. “We have to do something,” Dustin muttered nervously as they fought back-to-back. “What else can you do?”

  “I can make metal objects,” Vinnie replied. “I just learned the skill from my friend who is a Forge Monk. He knows—”

  “How can you talk so much!” Dustin exclaimed.

  “It’s another talent,” Vinnie replied casually.

  “Can you make another quake and have enough left over to make a shit-ton of metal spheres?”

  “I think so,” Vinnie replied.

  “You’d better hope so,” Dustin growled. “Do it!”

  “We need more distance. I can’t make a ripple big enough without distance first.”

  “Then we’re gonna die!”

  A series of shattering cracks cut through the air and blue flashes strobed against the red shells of their attackers. Skrima lost heads or developed big, smoking holes in their shells. Another Skrim hopped atop the others and ran across their heads, shoulders, and backs like a water bug on a lake.

  “Boone!” Vinnie shouted.

  Their Skrim ally landed between them, still firing with all four pistols.

  “Amphoralds almost out of energy,” he remarked casually. He reloaded a pistol with two of his arms while still shooting with the other two appendages.

  Dustin used the opportunity Boone provided to give them more space. “Do it now, Vinnie,” Dustin shouted. “Now or never.”

  Vinnie’s eyes glowed orange, and he dropped to both knees this time. His hands sank into the earth, and red dust rose up from the ground like mist. That mist shivered and congealed into bubbles that formed tiny spheres.

  “Get close!” Dustin urged. When Boone didn’t comply, he yanked the Skrim toward him. “Stand right there!”

  Dustin gripped his staff with both hands, and the world itself seemed to take a deep breath. An instant later, a wind swirled ever faster.

  The thousands of tiny spheres were drawn into the whorls of a tornado—and the Skrima for a hundred feet around were drawn into the whirlwind and ripped to shreds by the iron spheres.

  Dustin let the winds rip and tear for a few minutes just to make certain the job was done, then he slowly released the magic to allow Skrima body parts to fall to the ground like sickening rain.

  “Marcus,” Boone declared, “you have the storm magic too?”

  “I’m not Marcus,” Dustin replied.

  “Are you sure?” Boone asked, straightening the flowers on his hat.

  The once-peaceful hilltop was a maelstrom of violence. Magic and steel from every corner of Irth clashed with the jaws of death.

  And Gregory was in the midst of it, weaponless but for his wits and his nerve. Both were wearing thin.

  Years of experience as an awkward kid in the big city had taught him to keep a low profile, and for the most part, the Skrima were content to focus on more serious threats. He shouldn’t have been there at all. He should have been home with his wife and child and his machines. But Hannah had called, and it was a call he wouldn’t leave unanswered.

  Which was why when the orange dome had come down, blocking out the stars and trapping them in this place, he had left the ship and waded into this madness. He needed to be sure that Hannah was okay.

  Admittedly, it hadn’t been his brightest idea.

  “You damn fool,” he muttered to himself as he ducked out of the way of a charging Skrim. “Hannah’s the most powerful magician in Irth, and you think she needs your help? Last week you needed Laurel to open a jar for you.”

  And yet he continued on, some sense of urgency pulling him. It was more than the bond of their friendship; more than the dangers around them. It was the fact that Hannah was nowhere to be seen. Gregory was in the shit, and if Hannah were okay, she would be here too. So wherever she was, he had to find her.

  There was an ancient boulder in the middle of the field, and he scrambled on top of it to get a better look. From this vantage, he could see Sal scrapping with a Skrim twice his size. The dragon ripped out its throat as Gregory approached and turned to him with bloody fangs and a wild look in his eyes.

  “Easy, boy. It’s just me.” He held his hands up in submission.

  Sal’s snarl turned into a grin, and with a big bloody tongue, he licked Gregory’s face.

  “Uh, thanks,” he griped, wiping his face. “Hey, I need to find Hannah. Where is she?”

  At the sound of her name, Sal bent his knees low to the ground. Gregory climbed onto the hard-scaled neck and gripped with all his might.

  Sal launched skyward and began circling the field. Fighting the urge to scream, Gregory leaned as far over as he dared to search the battlefield. Things looked even more desperate from up here. Despite their skills, the heroes of Irth were woefully outnumbered. It was clear that if something didn’t change soon, they would not last much longer.

  “Druids. You gotta love those zany bastards.” Ezekiel’s speech slowed as he looked down at his prey, who was wrapped tightly in thick brown vines. “I mean, I got them started, of course, but the things they learned to do once nature was open up to them!” He shook his head slowly. “Fucking amazing really. I think I’ll make them a visit, once you and that little pest with the tigers are dead.”

  Ezekiel watched as Hannah strained against her restraints, and a hint of concern welled up in him. “Ah, yes. But nurture beats nature every time.” Keeping his dominant hand raised and humming with the power of the Etheric, he simply twisted his left wrist. Immediately, the vines constricted as they transformed into cords of steel.

  “Didn’t know you were into the kinky shit, Zeke,” Hannah quipped. “Surprising for a wilted old man like yourself.” If he were going to finish her, she’d go out with an insult or two. “Bet you can’t even transform that shriveled old twig between your legs.”

  Ezekiel scoffed. “Could never get the Boulevard out of the girl, could I? No matter. Spout your filth all you want, but I can’t help but think it a waste of breath.”

  Hannah closed her eyes. “You’re right,” she muttered. “Let me try again. Adrien was a man of honor compared to what you’ve become. I’m ashamed to have known you.”

  He laughed and drew back his hand. “Much better. Goodbye, Hannah.”

  “Oh, wait! And you’re a thoroughly magical douche nugget.”

  Before he could launch the final blow, a green mass slammed into him, sending him sprawling ass over tea kettle into the distance.

  “Sal,” Hannah grunted.

  The dragon moved with a fury like Hannah had never seen—his claws and teeth looking for blood. Ezekiel’s magic protected him, but it was clear that Sal’s presence threw
him off his game. The question was, for how long?

  Hannah pulled at the restraints holding her down, desperate to free herself and help her dragon. But it was no use. She was truly stuck.

  “Enough lying down on the job,” a voice squawked beside her.

  “Holy shit, Gregory!” Hannah exclaimed. She squirmed again against the metal vines, but they were too strong. “Get me the hell out of here.”

  “Um...yeah. About that.” Gregory pulled on the vines and tried to twist them to no avail. “Did you, like, think of teleportation?”

  “Yes, genius, but I’ve been fighting a crazed, souped-up wizard all day. I’ve got nothing.”

  Gregory reached inside his cloak, pulling out a glass flask.

  “No time for a drink, Gregory!”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “I’m sure that would be a really bad idea. This is a little something we’ve been playing with back in Archangelsk, based on some old texts Olaf gave me. Said it’s strong stuff. He called it nitrous acid or something.”

  Hannah glanced at the red-brown liquid. “And you have it why?”

  “Dunno. Thought I could throw it at a bad guy or something, but this is even better. Hold still.” He looked her dead in the eyes. “I mean it.”

  Hannah did the best she could and craned her neck to watch Gregory. His hands shook, decimating any confidence she might have had in him. The engineer steadied himself and moved from vine to vine, slowly pouring the liquid at the base of each. A coppery brown smoke drifted in the air, and a putrid smell filled her nostrils.

  “It’s working,” Gregory squealed. “Now, Hannah!”

  She pushed against the vines with all the energy that remained in her. They stretched first, then snapped.

  Hannah sat up and pulled Gregory into a hug. “Damn, I could almost kiss you!” She gave one of his cheeks a squeeze. “But you’re a dad, which makes that kind of gross.”

  Gregory’s face burned red, and he pushed his hand through his kinky dark hair. “Yeah, well, I’ve been known to—”