by J. M. Briggs
“We need to try,” Alex said. “Uh… someone text Merlin and Morgana.”
“They’re going to be pissed,” Nicki said. But Alex heard the beeping of her phone.
“What’s going on?” Avani’s voice asked from the hallway. “Uh… are you going to make a water tunnel in the bathtub?”
Turning to look at Avani who was lingering in the doorway, Alex started to laugh. It burst out and quickly took on a hysterical note. Aiden and Bran were both frowning at her while Nicki was eyeing her carefully with thoughtful eyes.
“I’m fine,” Alex gasped. “Uh, yes, Avani. I had a vision of Scáthbás and Arthur nearby. We’re going to try and find them. When Lance and Jenny get home, close up the place until we get back.”
“Alright,” Avani agreed. She took a step back from the doorway. Even her calm tone didn’t disguise the worry in her eyes. “Just… be careful.”
Extending her hand towards the tub, Alex closed her eyes and tried to envision the scene. There was no water at the gate, or even that close by. Frustration welled up in her chest. Her magic flared angrily, threatening to lash out at the lack of direction. Then someone took her hand. Magic fluttered over her skin. The panic and desperation in her chest eased a little. The spark in her chest grew stronger, and Alex exhaled, letting the magic spin together. Feeling a thrum through her limbs, Alex relaxed and focused.
Hearing the water move, Alex pressed her eyelids together and pushed out her magic. Her right hand dropped to her side only for someone to take it. Judging from the smaller size of it, the hand belonged to Nicki. Splashing echoed through the room. Pushing out more magic, Alex softly mouthed the name Scáthbás. Her magic pulled, tugging at her grip and into the distance.
More magic entered her body, sinking into her even faster than she was releasing it. Her eyelids stung, and her throat tightened. Her friends didn’t let go. Squeezing their hands in return, Alex smiled when the lines of magic led into the hills. It wasn’t the same as before. She was still standing in the bathroom and listening to churning water. The magic found Scáthbás and Arthur moving down a hill towards the stream.
Opening her eyes, Alex pulled her hands away from her friends and swung them forward towards the tub. Waves of water were scooped up by dark gray sparks. The water began to spin in midair, faster and faster. The clear water took on a hint of brown and dark gray. Flashes of color appeared in the center, and Alex stepped forward. She put one foot up on the edge of the tub. Nicki reached around her and turned off the tap. Extending her hands back, Alex inhaled when Nicki grabbed her hand.
“We’re here,” Aiden said behind her. “We’re going with you.”
Propelling herself forward, Alex stepped up onto the edge of the tub, but only for a moment. She all but fell into the tunnel, pulling the others in after her. Water splashed up onto her face, but the tunnel held. They were moving fast, so fast. A flash of red made her tense. They were past the Blood Spell boundary. Up ahead were tall trees and streaming sunlight.
Her feet hit the ground, real ground. Water filled her sneakers, and Alex gasped at the cold. Nicki’s hand was still in hers. She heard gasps behind her and took a few steps away from the tunnel, not releasing Nicki’s hand.
“We’re through,” Aiden said. Then he coughed. “And wet.”
Something moved in the trees. Alex let go of Nicki’s hand and climbed up onto the muddy shore of the creek. Beneath her, Alex’s feet sank into the mud. There were two figures. One was taller than the other with broad shoulders and blond hair in a loose ponytail. The second person’s arm was around his shoulders. Alex recognized their clothing at once. It was Arthur and Scáthbás. Relief, excitement, and fear that they’d managed to catch them before they left again filled her chest.
She didn’t wait. Shoving her hand forward, Alex released a blast of magic. It spun together, forming a lightning bolt. Scáthbás made an alarmed sound and Arthur waved his hand. A shield of shimmering black sparks formed in front of them. It was enough to hold back the lightning, even if Alex did hear Arthur grunting at the impact. Icicles shot past her, colliding with the shield, which shimmered and lightened in color. Two fireballs impacted seconds later.
“Really?!” Arthur shouted. “You want to do this now?!”
The shield shifted. Bran called a warning just before the magic swept forth, turning from a wall into a spear. Yellow magic swirled in front of them, solidifying into a wall at the moment of impact. Alex reached out and gripped the hilt of Cathanáil, pulling the sword free. It hummed in her hand, sending magic all through her arm and chest.
Bran’s shield fell. More blasts of black magic filled the air, raining down on them. Retreated away from the stream, the mages all launched counterattacks. The water swept up around Arthur’s legs, turning into ice and trapping him. Bran sent a yellow bolt towards Arthur’s face. Alex’s eyes widened. She held her breath. A golden shield blocked the attack, and her eyes jumped to Scáthbás. The Queen’s eyes were sharp and instantly went to Cathanáil. Alex’s fingers tightened on the hilt even as she raised it. Sparks shimmered across the metal and Alex braced herself.
More fireballs and icicles were flying through the air. Arthur had pulled himself free from Nicki’s ice trap. Scáthbás’ shield was holding. Alex saw the Queen’s mouth moving, but couldn’t hear her. Swinging Cathanáil, Alex remembered Chernobog’s death and pushed her magic forward. A beam of magic exploded towards Arthur and Scáthbás. Ozone filled the air. The shield shattered into small fragments of gold flakes flickering in the sun.
Nicki screamed, sending blue magic rippling out around her. The stream between them and Arthur rose up and swept forward across the land. It exploded into sharp ice spears. One caught Arthur in the leg, another in the chest. Scáthbás raised her hands. Another shield formed over them, this one smaller and already flickering. Marching forward, Alex watched Arthur’s hands, but he was busy covering a wound.
Scáthbás waved her hands. The water in the stream churned. Nicki released a beam of blue sparks, but Arthur sent a black bolt at Nicki. Aiden grabbed her and pulled her out of the way. A fireball exploded against the shield. It flickered. Alex swung Cathanáil again. This time bolts of light sailed off the blade, striking the shield all over. Two slipped through small holes. Arthur roared as one grazed his neck and another hit his chest.
A water tunnel formed out of the stream next to Scáthbás. It was compact, barely large enough to jump into, but Scáthbás threw herself forward. The shield flickered out the rest of the way. Aiden’s fireball just missed, hitting the swirling water and extinguishing in a sudden spurt of steam. Yellow sparks spun around Arthur’s ankle, forming a rope and pulling him from the water tunnel. A snarl ripped from Arthur’s mouth, and he twisted his body. A black bolt sailed through the air. Bran shifted to the right, avoiding the attack by inches. The yellow binding vanished.
Arthur jumped into the tunnel. Alex screamed, rage pounding and teeth gnashing. He twisted and looked back at her. His features were tight, desperation and frustration written on every new line in his face. Then, before Alex could move, the water tunnel collapsed, the water splashing back into the creek. Closing her eyes, Alex lowered her head in defeat, a sinking feeling in her stomach taking hold.
30
God of the Dark
Podlasie Province, Poland 983 C.E.
It was a small lake, locked between the hills and ridges of the valley. Water streamed into it from the nearby hills. In one place on the far bank it even formed a small waterfall. There had never been much in the way of fish here, so Dobiemir and others rarely bothered with the trek. The last time he’d been here the trees along the water had been thick with green and birds had been busily harvesting water insects.
Now it was still, and darkness hung over the valley. Swallowing, Dobiemir planted his feet on the ground. He couldn’t run. This had to be finished. He and his village couldn’t just live in fear forever. The stillness was wrong. The world wasn’t meant to be so still, so silent. E
ven on a quiet day, there was always something: a breeze, the chirping of a bird, or a distant rustle in the grass.
“He’s here,” Cyrridven whispered. “Close by.”
The Old One looked around with her odd blue-green eyes. Her right hand moved to the sword she carried, and she turned her face towards the water. “He’s in the lake.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Baldr asked, sharing a look with his sister.
“Not necessarily,” Odin said. He leaned on his walking stick and glared at the surface of the water. “Why now? What changed?”
Then the surface of the small lake began to ripple. Dobiemir’s eyes jumped to a tree, but it wasn’t moving. There was still no breeze. The temperature dropped, the air turning cold around them. His right hand went into the pouch on his belt and wrapped around the seal. Beneath his skin, the metal began to warm. He could feel the softly curving shape of the metal form. He’d used the symbol that Merlin and Morgana wore. The symbol was fixed to a round base of iron. It was solid and real.
“I do not know,” Cyrridven said. “Let us hope that he is seeking the waters to rest and cleanse himself.” Her tone wasn’t very hopeful, and she turned to look at him. “Stay on your guard.”
Dobiemir stayed back. He was content to let the Old Ones and the proper mages take the lead. Still, he inhaled slowly and felt the spark in his chest flutter. It was there, but it remained out of reach. Morgana caught his eye and then shifted closer to him, putting herself between him and the lake.
“Belobog!” Odin called. The Old One walked to the shore of the lake and pulled back his gray hood. Sif and Baldr flanked their father protectively. “Old friend, can you hear me? I wish to speak with you.”
The water rippled, but there was no answer. Around them, the air grew colder, and Dobiemir’s breath hitched. Looking towards the trees, he watched as the long shadows started to twist and grow. Backing up, he pointed to them, and Morgana growled.
“I don’t think he’s reverting to peace,” Morgana said. “Brace yourself. Shadows are coming.”
“Chernobog!” Cyrridven called. “Belobog. Whichever name you chose to embrace, speak with those who share your origin!”
Shadows emerged from the trees, slinking towards them with slow, deliberate movements. Morgana stayed close and her hands began to glow. Pressure filled Dobiemir’s chest. It was like the spark was being smothered. Still, he tugged on it, willing it and pleading with it to emerge. To help him survive this.
Chernobog was rising out of the water. Something thick and black bubbled over the surface. Dobiemir stepped back, his feet sinking into the mud. The Shadows were circling them and the lake. If they tried to leave now, they’d be hunted down. Maybe seeking to end this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe they would have done better to leave Chernobog alone. The water sloshed, and a figure stood, stretching up and out of the lake.
The tall humanoid figure lurched towards the shore, long skeletal limbs stretching out. Chernobog was thin with stretched black skin that shined unnaturally in the dying light of the day. Turning towards them, Dobiemir gasped as he saw the face. It was sunken-in like a corpse’s, with bones that were too defined and wide. Horns grew from its skull in a sick facsimile of a crown. It wasn’t what he had imagined dwelt in the cave. But the eyes were the same. Those glowing, unnaturally green eyes swept over them all.
“Oh no,” Odin groaned. “Belobog….”
“Chernobog,” Cyrridven called up. “Hold.” Bringing up her right hand, she gestured for the figure to stop. “Hold. Do not attack. This does not have to come to violence. But your Shadows are causing harm to the Iron Realm. The cold you release is killing the plants and threatening the humans with starvation. This cannot stand.”
Dobiemir looked up into the face. There was a mouth, but it did not move. Chernobog said nothing. Dobiemir wondered if it even understood anymore. Staring up into the green eyes, he waited for it to do something. Yet it did not speak. It looked down at them from its position towering above them. Morgana and Merlin said it was an Old One like Odin and Cyrridven, but it was so much larger.
Then the thing lifted its arm and reached for Odin. Baldr pushed his father back and raised his right hand threatening. Chernobog did not stop, smacking his hand down towards the ground. Odin and his children scattered. A beam of light from Baldr struck Chernobog, but the being showed no reaction.
The Shadows rushed them, suddenly violent and closing rapidly. They were rushing down the slopes of the valley, leaving the cover of the trees far behind. With trembling hands, Dobiemir pulled his knife from his belt and shifted toward Morgana. The female mage waved her hands and a wall of ice formed between them and the first Shadows.
“Let’s see how these abominations like the ice,” she snarled.
The wall shattered when the Shadows reached it, exploded towards them in dozens of shards of ice. Several Shadows were hit and fell to the ground with resounding thuds. More came, and a whip of magic flashed through the air, striking the first Shadow and forcing it back. Green sparks appeared around the feet of the creatures, and they were pulled down into the soil as it turned to mud.
Turning around, Dobiemir looked back at Chernobog. The being was swinging its hands down, trying to catch Odin. The Old One was still trying to talk and shouting something about a place called Avalye. None of it made sense. Odin raised his hand, sending orbs of light towards Chernobog. They did nothing except illuminate the creature’s face in the darkening day. Dobiemir looked up into the sky. There were no clouds, and he could see the sun, and yet all the light was vanishing.
“Stop using light!” Merlin yelled. “It doesn’t affect the Shadows; it probably won’t affect him.”
An explosion made Dobiemir drop to his knees and cover his neck. Ringing filled his ears. The shouting increased. He knew he needed to get up. He was too vulnerable. His knees quivered, and he reached for the seal once again. It warmed in his hand, and he pulled it free from the pouch. Looking down at it, he allowed his thumb to trace the triskelion symbol. It was simple, but inside of it was bound his wish for this to be over. That was what he wanted, what he needed. Traces of magic flickered across the surface of the metal.
The ground shuddered, and Dobiemir looked up nervously. Odin fell to the ground, gasping for air and gripping the side of his head. There was no blood, but Sif’s expression was panicked as she raced across the ground to her father. Baldr had pulled his sword and was slicing down any Shadows that came too close. Sif pulled Odin to his feet, putting his arm over her shoulder and started walking him further from the shore. Chernobog roared, lashing out towards Odin again. A wave of green sparks pushed the hand back.
There was too much. People were shouting. Both the mages and Old Ones were using their magic, filling the sky with flashes of light. The Shadows were snarling and swarming from different sides only to vanish in magical attacks. Chernobog was moving slowly out of the lake with heavy thunderous steps. Dobiemir spun around, barely dodging an attack by a Shadow that Morgana then killed with a large ice spear. His eyes couldn’t focus on anything. Terror. Confusion. He was lost, and there was no way out.
Merlin hit the ground with a thud that echoed through the valley. Eyes wide, Dobiemir waited for the older mage to rise, but he was still on the ground. Shadows leapt forth and ran towards the man. Morgana waved her hands. Icicles shot through the air, impaling two of the Shadows. She rushed forward, placing herself between them and Merlin, hands at the ready. That left Dobiemir on his own, frozen in place.
The Shadows didn’t care about him. Chernobog was just watching them now, no longer moving. His eyes glowed, making Dobiemir brace himself. Three Shadow rushed Morgana. An ice wall formed between Morgana and the Shadows. Silver sparks sprang into the air as she shifted her hands and readied herself. The Shadows leapt to go around the wall and Morgana flicked her fingers. Large spikes of ice burst forth and impaled the three Shadows.
Dobiemir caught sight of a small nasty smile on Morgana’s face.
In the lake, the water churned and began to swirl. Cyrridven was standing on the shore, her arms thrown up into the sky. Her long dark hair fluttered in the wind. His eyes dropped to the sword on her hip, and his fingers itched. Water spun into the air, forming long vine-like structures that reached for Chernobog.
The black Old One roared as the water vines wrapped around his chest and dragged him back into the lake. Water splashed around his feet, and his hands flailed, trying to swipe at Cyrridven. A roar shook the valley. Dobiemir’s grip tightened around the metal, making his joints ache. Chernobog’s fist hit the ground. Everything shook, sending Dobiemir stumbling to his knees. It was hard to breathe. The cold bit into his skin, sinking into his bones. Pain radiated through his chest and limbs. Raising his eyes, he watched ice begin spreading out over the lake. A faint cracking filled the air.
Merlin was moving again, slowly rising to his knees, his face a portrait of pain. Green sparks surrounded Merlin, the old mage spreading his hands to his side. The color flared, growing brighter and brighter. A wind picked up, ruffling his hair and pushing on his back. Merlin’s magic spun together, forming a spear above his head. It burst forth, striking Chernobog in the chest. The being roared, clawing at the magic trying to burrow into its chest.