by Lucas Flint
“How did you destroy their energy forms?” said Bolt. “Usually, it requires intense heat to burn them away. Doesn’t seem to be a lot of fire around here.”
“I just send it away,” said the Midnight Menace, waving a hand at the ground. “I banish their bodies to the shadows which swallows all. Of course, I did see the Devourer swallow their energy form once. It was a gruesome sight.”
“What’s the Devourer?” said Bolt.
“Something you don’t want to meet,” said the Midnight Menace. “Anyway, the Darzens are here and their numbers have been growing, probably in response to my killing all of the scouts they keep sending. They seem to be looking for something, but what, I cannot say.”
That was bad news. Bolt had hoped that the Darzens would not be here, but it sounded like they had been here for quite a while before he was. Was the Dread God looking for the Starborn, too? Or did he anticipate that Bolt and the others would go here and sent his minions ahead of time to lay a trap for them?
I’ll figure that out later, Bolt thought. For now, I need to see if the Midnight Menace knows where the Starborn are. He seems pretty knowledgeable about this place.
“So,” said Bolt, looking at the Midnight Menace again, “like I said, I’m here for the Starborn. Do you know where they are, exactly, in this place?”
The Midnight Menace looked away. He seemed to be staring at something in the distance, though it was too dark for Bolt to make out anything. “The Starborn, eh? They’re over there.”
The Midnight Menace pointed in a random direction. Bolt looked in that direction, but it was too dark for him to see anything.
Suspecting that the Midnight Menace was trolling him, Bolt said, “I don’t see any—”
Without warning, a purple lightning bolt exploded from the sky in the distance. It briefly illuminated the entire countryside of the Shadowlands, revealing more of those weird purple leaved trees, desolate hills, and the ruins of buildings and temples from a lost civilization of some sort.
But in the brief moment of illumination granted by the lightning bolt, Bolt saw something far more shocking—and frightening—than the Shadowlands themselves.
A massive fist was rising from the earth in the distance like a mountain … the fist of a god.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beams started when the ocean exploded. He backed further up the beach, his eyes charging with suppressed energy as he looked at the maelstrom which had started in the center of the bay.
It was some kind of huge whirlpool, swirling like a tornado, drawing in the various debris and jetsam in the waters. Its roar was almost as deafening as a waterfall, while above the clouds began to turn gray all of a sudden. The seagull’s cries went away suddenly, replaced by a gale force wind which nearly sent Beams flying. Sand and water splashed in his helmet and he was glad that the visor of his helmet was still intact because he would have gotten a face full of sand and salt water if he wasn’t.
The massive sailing ship he had noticed earlier began to be drawn toward the whirlpool. It stopped after several feet, however, held in place by its anchor, but he could already hear its creaking floorboards as the whirlpool tugged at it. Given the obvious strength of the whirlpool, Beams was amazed that the ship held its ground at all.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” said Guide. He was still sitting exactly where he had been before the whirlpool appeared and was somehow entirely dry, despite the raging waves beating against the beach.
“Terrifying, more like it,” said Beams. “So what am I supposed to do? Stop the whirlpool?”
“You can’t control mother nature,” Guide replied. He nodded at the ship. “But you can save the people on board that ship. The crew of that ship was sleeping after a long night of travel. They anchored off the bay of this uncharted island for the day because the weather seemed nice. They did not realize, or perhaps forgot, that mother nature is inherently cruel and she will devour you whole when you least expect it.”
Now that Guide mentioned it, Beams did see people rushing back and forth across the deck of the ship. They appeared to be mostly big, burly sailor types, though he spotted a handful of women among them and even a child or two. He wasn’t sure if they were pirates or merchants, though he was leaning toward merchants given the presence of women and children on the ship.
“Are those real people?” said Beams, looking at Guide.
“As real as me,” said Guide, “which is to say, as real as your mind makes them. But that doesn’t change the fact that your first challenge is to save those people. Their ship is strong and sturdy, but mother nature is stronger still and it won’t be much longer before the anchor snaps and the ship is drawn into the whirlpool. Once it is, every man, woman, and child on that ship will die.”
A chill went down Beams’ spine when Guide said that. “How do I save them?”
Guide flashed a mischievous smile at Beams. “That’s up to you to figure out, my friend. But a hint: Nature can triumph over man, but only man can conquer nature.”
Beams opened his mouth to ask what the hell that meant, but then a particularly massive wave crashed down onto the beach. It knocked Beams over, getting him doused in shockingly cold water, some of which went into his mouth and up his nostrils. As the waves pulled back to begin their onslaught anew, Beams coughed and hacked and sneezed, his body feeling like it had just taken a beating.
“Dang it,” said Beams in between hacking and coughing. He slowly rose to his feet and felt the sand sticking to his behind. “Stupid water … Guide, are you okay?”
But when Beams looked over, Guide was nowhere to be seen. And Beams had a feeling that the recording hadn’t been dragged into the sea by that wave, either.
His role in this challenge must be done, Beams thought. Bet I won’t see him again until I complete this challenge … or if I complete it.
Wiping off as much of the sand as he could, Beams looked out toward the raging sea. The ship was still holding strong, but Beams had no idea how much longer its anchor would hold. Beams needed to find a way to get onto the ship, but how? It wasn’t like he could just swim out there. If he tried that, he’d be drawn into the whirlpool and die before he even had a chance to do anything, yet he didn’t see a boat he could use to go out there, either.
I’m starting to see how every challenger who got this far died, Beams thought. If every challenger who enters the Gauntlet has to do this, then the high mortality rate makes a lot of sense.
But Beams had no time to think about mortality rates. His eyes darted this way and that as he looked for anything he could use to get out to the ship. But the beach was totally barren. There weren’t even any seashells poking out of its white surface. And if there had been anything, it had probably been dragged out to sea with the waves pounding against the beach.
That was when Beams noticed a peninsula sticking out of the bay. It stretched out into the bay quite a way until it stopped just a few feet away from where the ship was anchored. It was being pounded by the waves like everywhere else, but it was also the closest bit of land to the ship.
I could make that jump if I give myself a power boost, Beams thought. It will be close, but …
Beams began running. He ignored the pounding waves and the now pouring rain, which was getting heavier and heavier the more he ran. The whirlpool also seemed to be getting bigger and the creaking sounds from the ship sounded louder than ever even above the thundering rain clouds and the harsh, howling wind. His eyes were on the very edge of the narrow peninsula, which, if he made the jump successfully, would be his ticket to getting on the ship.
Almost there … Beams thought. Almost there … almost …
A massive wave suddenly appeared off to his left. It was big enough to cover the entire peninsula, but Beams swiveled his head in that direction and unleashed a powerful blast of energy at it. His laser beam exploded the wave, sending water flying everywhere, but Beams had already forgotten about it. Right before he reached the edge of the peninsula, he
closed his eyes and fired his lasers into his eyelids, which bounced back into his brain.
Power and adrenaline ran through his veins and Beams’ eyes snapped open at the last minute. His foot landed on the edge and then, putting all of his efforts into it, Beams launched himself through the howling wind and pouring rain to the ship struggling against the waves.
Beams didn’t think he was going to make it. He had miscalculated the jump and was going to fall well before he landed on the deck. In desperation, Beams reached out and grabbed at the railing. His fingers wrapped around the metal railing, but it was slick from the rain and he couldn’t get a good grip and he fell toward the sea below.
But then a huge, strong hand reached down and wrapped around his wrist. Beams gasped in surprise as he came to an abrupt stop. He looked up to see one of the sailors—a middle-aged man with a big gray beard—leaning over the edge, holding on tightly to Beams.
“Don’t worry, boy!” the man yelled in a rather stereotypical pirate voice. “I got ya! Hang on!”
Without warning, Beams found himself pulled up and over the railing and onto the deck of the ship. He sprawled across it flat on his back, breathing in and out hard, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. He still had a lot of energy left, but his near death experience had shaken him much deeper than he wanted to admit. He could just imagine himself falling into the water and being drawn directly into the whirlpool where he would drown to death.
“Hey, boy!” the man who had saved him yelled again. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”
Shaking his head, Beams looked up at the man standing above him. Though a handful of other men had also stopped to look at him, most of the ship’s crew were running around doing everything they could to fight against the whirlpool and keep the ship from sinking. But Beams paid little attention to the hustle and bustle around him.
Rising to his feet and using the ship’s railing for support, Beams said, “Yeah, I’m all right. Just shaken from nearly falling to my death.”
“Aye,” said the man. “That was quite a jump you made. Reckless, even suicidal, but admirable nonetheless. But who are you, anyway, and why would you even attempt such a thing? Are you crazy?”
Probably, Beams thought as he glanced over his shoulder at the roaring whirlpool in the center of the bay, but aloud he said, “I’m here to save you and the crew and passengers of your ship from the maelstrom.”
“Save us, you say?” said the man. He held out a hand. “I’m Captain Joseph Sonny, captain of this modest ship.”
Beams shook Sonny’s hand. “Alex Fry, but you can call me Beams instead.”
“Beams, eh?” said Sonny as he lowered his hand back to his side. “Interesting nickname you got there. How’d you get it?”
“I’ll explain later,” said Beams. He looked around at the panicking and screaming crew members and passengers. “How many people do you have on this ship?”
“Two hundred and ten,” Sonny replied, holding up three fingers. “That breaks down to about fifty sailors, seventy male passengers, seventy female passengers, and twenty children. We were on our way to deliver some supplies to a foreign country but had to stop here for the night to avoid a storm. Looks like we just jumped straight into the fire, though, if you ask me.”
Beams nodded. He found it odd how nonspecific Sonny was in his description of the ship and its purpose, but he supposed that this was due to the fact that this was an illusion conjured by the Gauntlet (if not an alternate universe, which he still wasn’t sure of). It wasn’t like he needed a full immersion experience. Nearly falling to his doom was immersive enough. “And what about anchors and sails?”
“If you’re asking whether we can sail our way out of this mess, then the answer is no,” said Sonny, shaking his head. “Wind isn’t strong enough. Even if it was, we’d still have to fight against the whirlpool, which is too strong for us to sail out of even with favorable wind blowing in our sails. Truth be told, the only thing keeping us from being dragged down into the depths of the ocean is our anchor.”
Hearing the sound of the anchoring straining, Beams said, “That doesn’t sound too good.”
“No, it does not,” Sonny agreed, “which is why we’ve been moving supplies into the center of the ship. We’re trying to make it heavy enough that it won’t be pulled into the whirlpool.”
Beams looked at Sonny in disbelief. “Do you really believe that will work?”
Sonny shrugged. “No, but it keeps the crew busy and makes the passengers think everything is going to be all right.”
Beams put a hand on his helmet in exasperation. “What about lifeboats? Do you have any we could use to get people off the boat?”
“Nope,” said Sonny, shaking his head. He gestured at a davit that stood about a foot away from the railing. “We lost ‘em during a particularly big storm about a week ago. Got torn off and ended up in the sea. Besides, even if we did have some lifeboats left, they wouldn’t be much good against that whirlpool. The lifeboats would get sucked into the whirlpool far easier than the ship itself.”
Beams bit his lower lip. He realized that Sonny had a point, but that did not make it any easier to figure out what to do. He had hoped that he could get the ship’s crew and passengers onto the lifeboats and row them to land, but it was starting to look like Beams would have to do something else.
But what? Beams thought, looking around at the chaotic scene around him. The only reason the ship hasn’t even been sucked into the whirlpool yet is because of the anchor. It doesn’t sound like the ship has much longer, based on the groaning sounds I hear.
The rain was especially annoying. The visor of his helmet protected his face and vision, but the rain was still hard to see through, not to mention the way it made the deck slick. As Beams watched, two sailors slipped on the deck and crashed into each other, earning them both a scolding from Sonny, who barked orders at them to get back up on their feet and get back to work.
“Got any ideas yet, stranger?” said Sonny suddenly, snapping Beams out of his thoughts.
“What?” said Beams, looking at Sonny. “No, do you?”
“Nope,” said Sonny, shaking his head, “though I’m thinking of telling the crew and passengers to jump ship and try to swim to land. It’s not much better than the lifeboat idea, honestly, but—”
An earsplitting roar interrupted Sonny. It seemed to be coming from the whirlpool in the middle of the bay and Beams thought he caught a glimpse of a giant beak poking out of the whirlpool until it went back in just as suddenly. Most of the sailors had ignored the roar, but a few did stop and look toward the whirlpool with dread in their eyes.
“What was that?” said Beams, looking at Sonny.
“Must be a kraken,” said Sonny. His face had become pale as a ghost. “Must be the source of the whirlpool.”
“Is that even possible?” said Beams.
“Aye,” said Sonny, nodding. “Me great granddad’s ship was nearly torn asunder in a whirlpool created by a particularly huge kraken. Never seen one in the flesh meself, however.”
A plan was already starting to form in Beams’ mind when he heard that, but he still asked, “So if we can somehow kill the kraken, then the whirlpool would go as well, right?”
“Yeah, probably,” said Sonny. “Of course, that would require actually having some way to kill the damn thing, which we don’t.”
“Doesn’t this ship have cannons?” said Beams.
Sonny nodded. He tapped the deck with one of his boots. “Yep. Directly below us, in fact. Why?”
Beams smiled. “I’ve got a plan, a plan to save the ship, but there’s no time to explain it. Ready the cannons. I’m going to need them if I’m going to save the lives of every man, woman, and child on the ship.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The massive fist briefly made visible by the purple lightning quickly faded back into darkness, but the image was still imprinted upon Bolt’s mind.
“What was that?” said Bolt, looking at
the Midnight Menace.
The Midnight Menace’s red eyes flashed from within his helmet. “The Fist of the Gods. An ancient structure built eons ago by the original inhabitants of the Shadowlands. I believe it was a temple dedicated to whatever gods the inhabitants of this land once worshiped.”
“How do you know so much about it?” said Bolt in surprise.
The Midnight Menace shrugged. “Exploration. There are very few written works leftover from the people of the Shadowlands and even fewer which I can read. I’ve learned quite a bit about this place simply by exploring ruins, although it can be hazardous because many of the ruins in this land are now home to dark creatures the likes of which do not exist on Earth.”
“So you said the Starborn are over there?” said Bolt. He curled his hands into fists. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go over and say hello.”
Bolt was just about to take off when the Midnight Menace put a hand on Bolt’s shoulder and said, “Don’t. The Starborn don’t want to be visited. They’ve made that very clear ever since they came here.”
Bolt paused and looked over his shoulder at the Midnight Menace. “What are you talking about? Have you spoken to them?”
“Barely,” said the Midnight Menace. His eyes darted toward the Fist of the Gods in the distance. “When the Starborn first came here some months ago, I tried to force them out, but they were too powerful and they made it clear that they weren’t going to do anything nefarious while here. So I allowed them to stay, though I’ve also kept a careful eye on the Starborn’s activity while they are here.”
“A careful eye,” Bolt repeated. “How careful we talking about here?”
“Very careful,” said the Midnight Menace, taking his hand off of Bolt’s shoulder. “This is the closest I’ve been to the Fist in months. Not that I need to be near it to see it, however. The Shadowlands themselves tell me of what the Starborn are doing.”
“And what, may I ask, are the Starborn doing here in the first place?” said Bolt.