I’m too weak. I can’t reach the other two. You have to understand. You have to tell them to stop this.
This again. Enemy magic. Egomancy. I hate mind games.
“Go for the mages,” I garbled, standing back to my feet. “They keep hitting me with mind blasts or something.”
“My pleasure,” Alexander said. “George!”
In a flash of lambent light George the book erupted in a bouquet of deadly tentacles. Before the gathered Mermen could rattle off a spell George had already made marinara sauce out of the nearest.
It wasn’t really magic. Not deep down underneath. George might be a magically enchanted book, or was possessed or some such technicality, but he wasn’t a tool to be used at Ashwell’s discretion.
Like an Eldritch attack dog, George filleted another sorcerer, contorted to avoid a massive icicle flung his way by a third, and snapped his tentacles together like a lobster claw to snip another of the Mermen in twain.
“Better?” Alexander called out.
“Much.”
“That centerpiece there. Surrounded by the glass. It’s thick with Eldritch power.”
I blinked in surprise. They really were keeping him in a fish bowl.
“I’ll break him out. Keep them at bay,” I said.
Easier said than done. As George raged all around me, I came to the realization that the fancy aquarium was, unlike the rest of the facility, state of the art. My wand sword hardly put a dent in the glass.
“Not good,” I said, parrying the trident thrust of a Merman that slipped through George’s defense.
“Took the words out of my mouth,” replied Ashwell. “Not sure how much longer we can manage over here.”
The glint of the huge metal rings encapsulating the top and bottom of the aquarium gave me an idea.
How do you break through a door? Mashing your shoulder into it won’t work, and you’d have to be insane to carry around a battering ram on the off chance you’ll ever need it. That’s why you kick your way in. Not through the door, but through the lock mechanism. Stomp next to the knob and more often than not, you’re in.
I slashed an oncoming Merman’s throat, then jammed my blade into the bottom ring of the aquarium. Metal budged, and creaked as I expanded my will into my blade. At last, some good luck.
“Just another minute and we’re set Ashwell,” I called out.
My response was a crunching thud. It sounded like a wrecking ball falling a hundred feet and landing atop a steel drum factory.
George’s largest tentacle had been smashed beneath a gigantic Grecian pillar that looked like it had been grabbed from some sunken ruin. Firmly gripping the pillar was a dull red hand thick with veined flesh.
Immense bulk so great it barely squeezed through the far entrance of the antechamber. Garbed in nothing more than a stained loincloth, the gargantuan beast stared at me with a single, massive eye shining with cruel glee.
“Mermen so useless. Jobs like these need real Sons of Neptune,” it said.
“Cyclops,” I whispered. “Goddammit.”
Chapter 40
George was dazed and wounded, Ashwell was reeling, and I was halfway into the aquarium. That made me the number one target.
Bellowing a deafening war cry, the Cyclops crossed the antechamber in two grand steps and swung his pillar-club down on me with enough force to pulverize a modern tank.
It’s not that I couldn’t see the damn thing coming. Cyclopes were too big to be graceful. The problem was that the pillar was so wide it was tricky to avoid it entirely. And from any blow that strong, came an extra worry that had slipped my mind.
Shrapnel.
My calf exploded in pain, dropping me to my hands and knees. A shard of stray metal about as wide as my hand had embedded itself comfortably between my agonized layers of flesh.
“Not good,” I said. “Ashwell!”
The Cyclops raised his club again for the killing blow, but at the last second, sinewy tentacles wrapped his ankles together, throwing the giant off balance and crashing into the metal floor.
“The eye. It’s rare to find foes with such obvious weak points,” Ashwell replied.
“Not so fast,” boomed the Cyclops.
Faster than I could follow the brutish Son of Neptune tore a metal plate free of the floor and tossed it like a Frisbee right at me.
To be fair. The Greeks did invent the discus throw.
The metal sheet embedded itself about one hair’s breadth to the right of my throat. I would have had my left hand completely cut off, but thankfully the aquarium stropped it just in time.
Antechamber and structure alike shuddered. The metal plate had hit the aquarium with enough force to pierce the glass. A spider web of cracks spread from the point of impact and a trickle of water slipped down the plate.
I noticed all of this not because I was feeling particularly observant. I was sort of forced into it. You see, despite Ashwell’s killing all the gathered sorcerers, another mind blast hit me. Harder than before. Urgency rang through my brain as every pain receptor, fear and insecurity flared up in my mind at once.
Almost as big a headache as Lis.
You misunderstand. This action will cause ripples beyond fathoming. Leave me to my prison. Please. At least this much I can do for the world.
Understanding thrilled through me. It was never the mages. All these mental magics, strong enough to cause me massive discomfort but not permanent damage belonged to--
Beware your foe.
The pain, fear and uncertainty washed off of me in an instant. I became aware of Alexander shouting out, and the Cyclops’ foot dangling above my head, ready to crush me like a bug.
Fat chance.
With a roar of determination I flung myself to the side narrowly dodging the giant’s crushing tread. I focused my will upon my wand, rattled off an incantation, and pointed it at the Cyclops.
A shard of hardened arcana shot out from it, flew gracefully through the air, and managed to land right in the center of the Cyclops’ eye.
The world was deathly silent for a second. Then the screaming started. It made my ear drums quake. It pierced into my very soul. So loud and wretched I honestly thought it might kill me.
“Ashwell!” I screamed futilely over the Cyclops’ shrieks. “It wasn’t the mages. Your friend, this God of yours doesn’t want to be freed! He warned me not to free him at any cost. Ashwell?”
He hadn’t heard a word. Even if he were a master lip reader, he was too busy trying to hold off another Cyclops that had reached the antechamber, flanked by a host of Mermen.
“Shit,” I cursed to myself. “Think fast.”
I forced my eyes to scan the dented, ruined room for something, anything to help. Instead of finding something useful, I was just in time to see the third Cyclops, staring wide eyed at me from the dome above us. His balding hair wild in the sea’s current. He drew back a fist and punched through the domed roof.
Smashing open the dome with his bare hands, he landed onto the antechamber floor with a sopping crunch, salt water cascading down atop him.
“That the best thing about Neptune’s kids, Hero,” The Cyclops said with a rotten toothed grin. “We don’t need air to breathe.”
It was all over. Not because of the air, but because I was positive Ashwell and I wouldn’t stand a chance fighting relatives of a Sea God in an underwater fight. My mind almost had the chance to accept the fact that my death was going to be drawn out and messy when a miracle happened.
The Cyclops I’d unsighted, blind with rage and madly lashing out at anything in arm’s reach, tripped and fell onto the metal plate he had thrown into the side of the aquarium.
In a split second, the plate pierced through the last layers of glass and struck the side of the immense mound of coral.
Crack.
Time stopped. Planet Earth paused it’s orbit around the Sun, and the stars ceased their twinkling. Like squid ink spilling from the crack, a darkness as black as night expa
nded with frightening speed, growing along the floor like vines up an ancient building’s walls, tracing every dent and line in the antechamber.
It’s been quite a while since I’ve had a chance to have an honest discussion with someone. It’s a shame it had to be under such terrible circumstances.
Chapter 41
Tentacles of inky blackness shuddered and stretched. Past my feet they wove their way, tracing arcane and unsettling patterns on whatever surfaces they touched. My breathing grew erratic. I couldn’t hope to maintain my self image as the pressure of that ancient long imprisoned presence focused it’s attention solely upon me.
From the rippling shadows came a figure dressed in a white toga. Bare feet, rustic, humble cloth, it was perfectly Human except for the head. An unnatural mound of red coral took the face’s place. A sinewy tentacle that looked like an umbilical chord hung from the ‘chin’ like a beard.
I mentally went over my list of synonyms for the word ‘horror’.
I beg your pardon for my earlier intrusions. I am an Outsider. An outcast among my people. Call me what you wish, Human, for you have aided the children of old Dagon and freed me. For that I am in your debt. What shall I call you?
What the hell was an Outsider? Why did it pretend to look mostly Human? Old Dagon? Outcast? All these questions, and yet I was absolutely certain I should not answer the one is asked me. Who knows what would happen if I told it that my name was--
Charles Locke. Pleased to meet you. It is quite understandable that you are a little bit unsettled.
It could understand my thoughts?
‘It’? I believe I qualify as male by your standards. But yes, I can understand your thoughts. I must thank you for your help. Here.
With a wave of a hand, the coral headed horror indicated each of the three Cyclopes that crowded the room. Obediently, the multiplying tendrils of black ink swirled and fastened around them in an instant, covering them from head to toe. When the tendrils ebbed, the one eyed giants were gone. Disintergrated
The Outsider sighed, raising a five fingered hand to the side of it’s monstrous ‘head’.
I am afraid I am still weakened, Charles Locke. I am unable to maintain this respite of ours for much longer. Before I go, you need to understand something. This was not your fault. None of this. Don’t blame yourself.
Blame myself? For what?
A hint of sadness echoed from the Outsider’s ‘voice’.
For the events that have been set in motion by my liberation. It’s my fault, really. I was too weak to--
Dread hit my stomach hard and fast. Just what events have been set in motion? The frozen world shuddered. The Outsider turned away from me, his toga whirling behind him.
I shall give you all the answers you desire when we meet again. Until then, know that the Cosmos is neither as kind nor as convenient as one might hope. After all, what is a prison like this without a Jailer?
Pop. Water spilled, metal groaned, and Ashwell looked terribly surprised that three hulking one eyes brutes suddenly vanished and the walls turned into an abstract art exhibit. Strange spiral tracings covered steel and cement alike. The Outsider, however, was nowhere to be found.
“Charles. Stars and stripes what just happened?!” Ashwell asked.
“Your Friend seems like a nice guy,” I said, a wave of dizziness washing over me.
A crooked smile tore Ashwell’s face in half.
“We did it. Brilliant. Let’s get out of here before--”
“A little late for that,” I replied.
As the words left my mouth, the TARTAROS II facility gave one final groan as the antechamber cracked in half. Flood water and stray metal rained down from above.
I found myself caught beneath a support bar tumbling down from above. Too weak to push it off, exhausted mentally and physically, all I could do was join the heavy metal beam on it’s journey into the bottomless trench deep beneath the facility.
Passing out from the mental exhaustion of meeting the Outsider was a mercy.
Chapter 42
My eyes opened to emptiness. Pitch black abyssal nothing. I didn’t see that I was awake so much as hear it.
Short gasping breaths. My own.
The magical ring saved me from a one way trip to Davy Jone’s Locker, but I was split on whether that was a good thing or not. I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t feel a thing except the weight of the steel beams on my chest and of course the crushing burden of a near fatal amount of water pressure above me.
Don’t panic. Panicking is the worst thing to do right now. Calm deep breaths. Then see if you can push the beam off of you. Or whatever is holding you down.
I took my own advice, drew in a deep, almost steady breath, then pushed. The weight budged and creaked in the shadow. It sounded like it was scraping against stones. Just how far down was I? Another push, and I managed to wriggle out from beneath it.
Great work, I thought to myself. Now all I have to do is wander the emptiness until I eventually get eaten by a giant squid or something.
It was too quiet. Too empty. It made my mind wander and my will falter. Was I really at the deep dark bottom of the sea or was I already dead? Was this the after world? Would I get to see Lis if I really was dead? My movements slowed until phantom currents moved me along like a particularly thoughtful cloud.
Lis. It’d be stupid to think she’d come to my rescue here and now. She’s a Devil after all. Her objective is to doom me, not save me. Just because she’d been there in my time of need once upon a time did not mean she’d repeat the performance, especially if it proved unprofitable for her.
Just like in the depths of Xibalba. I was sure she’d show up at the last moment. In the end, she never did. Itabimori died. And I added another sin to my lengthy, lengthy list.
How strange Lisistrathiel had been acting too. It almost made me forget she was my enemy. Maybe that’s what she was trying to do. To make me easier prey. I mean, what else could there be?
I’m not the type of gal who apologizes easily, Whispered a memory, Or in a straightforward way for that matter.
What did she mean by that? What could she possibly need to apologize for?
For telling me the Angel of Death couldn’t possibly exist? For always buying things on my credit cards? For constantly making attempts on my soul? For willfully with-holding information that would have saved me a ton of trouble? For not being there for me in my time of need? For not being there to save Itabimori?
I chuckled to myself. Bullshit. That’s just my brain pursuing any insane theory as a defense mechanism so I don’t go crazy facing the fact that I’m stuck in a pitch black oceanic desert of nothingness.
Surprise filtered through me as I squinted my eyes. No. Not completely pitch black. Barely, just barely, I could make out the contours of sand dunes below. The outlines of massive submerged cliffs surrounded me. Jagged primordial stone jutted out at disturbing angles. I could see them. But how?
Turning around in the empty abyss, I caught sight of my salvation. Light. A strange dull light.
Even though my body ached, I swam for it as fast as I possibly could. A good thing too. My leg, it’s wound untended, was probably leaving a delicious smelling trail of blood for sharks or other carnivorous fish to follow. I’d better hurry.
Out of breath, delirious at the thought of maybe making it out alive, I neared the light. Catching a grisly sight out of the corner of my eye, however, I stopped dead in my tracks.
A massive scaled snake, which I’d mistook for a ridge of stone, lay on a nearby sand bank. Bones protruded from the top and its flesh hung in tatters off the bones.
I drew in a quick breath when I followed the ‘snake’ to it’s origin. A familiar face greeted me. Though not one I’d ever been pleased to see.
The Scylla. Eyes already eaten out of the skull. Massive fanged mouths all slack. Dead? I needed to get out of here before whatever killed my ‘assassin’ made short work of me too. I swam over to the light, a s
trange kind of plant probably. I couldn’t help but stare. That’s when I noticed what the bulb was attached to.
It’s a good thing I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with scary things. Lisistrathiel being the prime suspect when it came to spooky Supernatural creatures, though Ashwell, the Dagonians and the Outsider sure helped too.
I mention this because if I hadn’t crammed so hard for dealing with horror I might just have been driven insane by what I noticed: Behind the bulb, two immense, lidless eyes came into view. Pitch black mirrors with only my reflection in them.
The eyes gloamed just above a mouth full of needle sharp fangs, each about the size of a spear. They looked like they had specifically evolved to prey on blue whales and light naval cruisers.
I’d like to think I stared in silence, but the truth is I probably screamed and screamed.
A massive gnarled hand erupted from the abyssal sand and grabbed me. No escape. All I could do was struggle and watch as the titanic Angler Fish opened wide it’s dread maw and--
“Pardon me, sir. Are you perchance Charles Locke?”
--Struck up a conversation with me?
I stared in mute shock until the monstrous beast gave a startled gasp and added, “Where are my manners? Please, call me Gloucester. I’d heard there was some rough-housing up above and that they’d been searching for a warlock.”
A Dagonian? Impossible. The fish man was so huge that Godzilla would probably call in sick if this guy ever felt like taking a vacation in Tokyo. Damn Lisistrathiel. Is this what she meant when she said that Dagonians can grow to be ‘pretty big’?
Gloucester looked like he was going to say something else but I waved my hands before he could form the words, motioning that I would like to return to the surface.
The colossal Dagonian nodded profoundly, “Say no more, good sir. I shall have you up and upon solid ground within the hour. Any quicker and the pressure might make you pop like a volleyball caught in my great great granddaughter’s mouth.”
Drown Another Day Page 14