“The savannah covers many leagues. Beyond, the terrain climbs again to the western mountains.” Lailah picked at the collar of her new robe. The fabric remained stiff and scratched her body. Better than the ragged one she had worn on their journey to The City Beneath the City, but the same cloudy gray as the ghosts haunting that place.
“Dustan cannot hike the mountains until he is well.” Obvious concern troubled Kyra’s words.
Lailah took Kyra’s hand and gazed into her eyes with sympathy. “We do not know if he will recover.”
Kyra jerked her hand away. She shook her head and softened. “No. He will.” With Dustan braced against her, she stumbled on. “We need to find shelter. Did you see anything ahead?”
“There is a cluster of trees…there.” Lailah pointed into the distance.
Dustan absently followed her arm to where a dark spot blemished the straight line of the horizon. So far…and the world went black.
He woke staring up into a skeletal canopy. Their “shelter” consisted of five trees with long, scrawny trunks perched atop a knoll. A crown of branches covered in brown needles fanned out overhead. The weeds died at the foot of the rise, the ground beneath the trees loose bister soil. Kyra had laid him on her jacket and now sat near watching his every breath.
“Feeling any better?” She looked tired. Her skin pale, rips in her shirt and pants echoed the weariness in her eyes.
Dustan did not reply, but turned onto his side and gazed out over the yellowed sea swaying in a stiffening breeze. Kyra and Lailah murmured behind him. Their voices scraped at his ears like tiny insects seeking entry into his brain. When the sky darkened, it did not register as odd, and the wind bending the trees only irritated him. Grass plucked from the savannah whipped into his face with the first pitter-patter of fat raindrops. Kyra’s voice grew louder, her hands on his shoulders rocking him urgently.
“We have to get out of its path,” she shouted over the gale.
In the distance, toward the tundra, a black shape danced on the horizon. It raced across the ground, veering back and forth, leaped into the air, and stomped back down again. As it drew closer, Dustan could make out the spinning mass. A tornado, miles wide, but unlike any he had seen in the human world. Streaked with vibrant colors and brilliant lights—the spirits of those it had snatched up in its tear across the realm—it reminded him of Christmas.
Dustan smiled, pushed himself to his feet, and staggered down the knoll. Kyra yanked at his arms, but he tossed his shoulders and stumbled on. The force of the rain and wind eroded skin from his face and neck. His jacket trailed behind him like the sail on a mast ready to snap. He pictured the souls soaring amidst the swirling winds of the storm. Faces trapped in terrified screams, bodies torn apart. Fear should cripple him. He should be on the hill, latched ahold of one the gangly trees, begging for his life. Anticipation of impending doom eluded him. He could not muster so much as meager worry.
A roar thundered in his mind, ricocheting off the bone inside his skull. He thought of the train set and heard it chug across the savannah. Finally, the gift he desired so long ago, a fitting end to his shame. Too bad he did not have a stocking, he might wave it in the shrieking wind and guide the train to him. The tornado pulled and pushed simultaneously. His arms cracked and loosed from their sockets, pain enveloped him like a warm blanket. Dustan rocked on his heels and fell to his knees, threw out his arms, and craned his head back. Stinging droplets bounced off his face as a maniacal grin spread across his lips.
Kyra knelt at his side. “If you’re going to die, I’m going with you.”
“No.” He muttered. “Get away.”
She sat down and crossed her arms, glaring straight into the storm. Lailah approached, her small frame barely able to move against the violent wind, and plopped down on his right.
“Go. You have to go on without me. I’m no good to you.” Tears leaked from his eyes, torn from their corners and swept away before wetting his cheeks.
Kyra and Lailah sat in stoic calm, though he could see Kyra’s hands clutched tight in her lap to mask their shaking.
“Your parents died for you. So we could save countless lives. This is how you plan to honor their sacrifice? As a coward?” Kyra did not turn her head to look at him. “You can have our blood on your hands as well.”
“I can’t.” He blubbered like a baby and held her tight. “I can’t.”
“You can. You must. For them. For me. For everyone. But most of all…for you.” She screamed into his ear, the monstrous storm nearly upon them. “I believe in you, and so did they. Don’t let them down. Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain.”
The wind became a solid force punching into his face and chest. Needles and weeds pierced his flesh. A thousand kinds of agony feasted on his body, but all paled in comparison to the despair crushing him. Dustan lifted his head and stared into Kyra’s eyes. They pleaded with him out of fear and need, but more, from love. All the loss whirled within him as the tornado spun outside. Inside that black mass, his parents, Shax, Saerna, and Valefar stared out with condemnation. Now the Void would claim two more he loved. His mum and da were not his fault—accident and disease took them. His demon family forced his hand with their deceit. Kyra and Lailah, however, sat solely on him—on his self-pity.
He dropped his head and nodded. A massive weight descended on top of them, the storm disappeared from view, and blackness engulfed him. Only Kyra’s breath on his neck kept him sane. She lay close, entwined in his arms. Screeching winds and crashing trees joined the cacophony of debris torn from distant terrains in the tornado’s path. The din escalated. Intense pressure squeezed his chest. Dustan felt blood and energy trickle from his nose and ears. His eyes bulged in the sockets. He folded his arms tight around Kyra, whispered he loved her…he was sorry.
One moment the storm threatened to rip them apart, and the next all the world fell into silent calm. Whatever covered them rose up. A colossal golem stood high above them, gazing down with its stone eyes. A body constructed of huge boulders lurched a few strides away and faded in a glittering cloud. Lailah stepped out an instant later wearing a proud smile, glanced at them, and shrugged.
“Thank you.” Dustan leaned down and lifted her into a hug. He turned to Kyra and pulled her close. They kissed with passion and gratitude while Lailah giggled.
29
The Way Ahead
The western massif stood as a god amongst the other mountain ranges across the realm. The stratospheric heights of The Temple of Asmodeus appeared miniscule in comparison. Steep and treacherous, its vertical rises and trails made the going slow and tedious. Hunters on gryphons patrolled the range in heavy numbers. The trio could not employ Lailah’s abilities to whisk them higher—even in her most ferocious forms, the enemy outmatched her. She did, however, shift into smaller creatures, scamper ahead, and find the least perilous routes. All relative, none proved easy. A dozen cuts barely healed before a new batch took their places. The three had each suffered at least one crippling injury along the way.
Two-thirds of the way up the mountain, the land flattened and a path snaked through ankle-deep fetid pools. Bushes sprouting thick, razor-sharp thorns grew between cracks in the rock. Flowers with wide ochre petals waved absent a breeze. Dustan stepped too close to one, and its mouth, filled with needle-like teeth, opened and snapped at the air. The path split in a plethora of smaller trails at the base of a precipitous incline. Worn and traveled by dwarf goats—one of which stood eyeing them from a ledge higher up—the trails meandered along the crags and disappeared into shallow caves.
“We can’t hike those.” Dustan scanned the elevation.
“Hadraniel claimed the passage would be here.” Kyra pointed to an outcropping vaguely resembling a bird’s gaping beak. “He said this place was called Eagle’s Crest. If it is not here, our only choice is to travel over the mountain, and we are still weeks from the peak.” Kyra braced against the cliff face, adjusting her daggers for the umpteenth time—a habit Du
stan noted she employed whenever she grew agitated.
“What’s on the other side of this range?” asked Dustan.
“Another expanse, various terrains, one gives way to the next as far as I could see.” Lailah appeared to enjoy the hike, now comfortable with her new friends, their company adequate to keep her content.
“The western outer realm rests beyond the expanse. The portals and lots of ice, little else,” said Kyra.
“You’re certain the gate lies within the mountain?” Kyra nodded. “We keep looking then. Hadraniel wouldn’t steer us in the wrong direction.” Dustan wiped a hand across his mouth and turned.
Something caught his attention out of the corner of one eye. He tiptoed to the mountain face. Dwarf goat tracks diverged up the many trails, but some vanished into the stone. Dustan felt along the extended boulder. On the back side where the rock jutted out at an angle and created a false front, a path disappeared into the darkness.
“Here. This must be the way,” said Dustan.
Lialah glanced in, appearing wary. Kyra set her mouth, narrowed her eyes, and nodded.
They crept through the opening and onto a road of sorts. It climbed and fell through tight clefts and over vast chasms. Narrow ledges hung above molten streams, draining into pools of bubbling lava. Several times, their trek jettisoned flurries of spooked bats from the ceilings. The frantic beat of leathery wings in the confined spaces made the group duck and squeal. Dustan had ceased feeling embarrassed. This realm, and this passage in particular, would make anyone jumpy.
After two days within the bowels of the mountain, they came to a lake. The tranquil water, crystal clear, accommodated a school of hand-sized fish. Multi-hued energy shone through translucent bodies. Lacking eyes or nostrils, their faces held large oval mouths that wavered as if speaking. The trio rinsed out their clothes and washed the dust from their skin before taking respite on a row of cool, flat stones. Dustan stretched his aching muscles. Kyra nuzzled in under his arm while Lailah curled up and fell asleep.
“How much farther do you suppose?” asked Dustan.
“A few days, I think. I wish Hadraniel could have been more specific.”
He leaned back and gazed into her eyes. “Thank you. For, you know, back in the storm.”
She pecked him on the cheek with a grin. “I love you. We do this together or not at all. I don’t want to save the universe if you are not in it.”
Dustan touched his forehead to hers. They rested in silence, content to hold each other and enjoy the quiet moment. He dozed off and woke feeling something thin and hard against his neck. Blunt pins pricked at his flesh in a hundred places. Small lumps squirmed beneath his clothing as if his skin boiled. His eyes went wide when he noticed Kyra’s shirt shift at the chest and belly with the same vague circular shapes.
“Kyra, Lailah,” he shouted.
They bolted off the rocks, and in seconds began flailing their arms and stamping their feet. Grape-sized insects fell to the passage floor. Chitinous bodies with six prickly extremities hit the stone and scurried back up their legs. Stubby, hollow proboscises affixed to tiny heads dug into soft flesh. Kyra stripped off her clothes and frantically brushed the bugs away. She stomped down, squishing them into gooey blots on the rock. Dustan and Lailah followed suit. In minutes, the insects had receded and the three stood heaving for breath, stark naked. Dustan tried not to stare at Kyra, though he caught her glancing his way more than once. Lailah bore no shame, taking her time retrieving her robe.
“What the hell were those things?” asked Dustan, still feeling his skin crawl.
“Much like a tick.” Kyra tugged on her jacket after shaking it out to make certain none remained hidden inside the sleeves. “They drain energy from other creatures using syphons. Parasites. They hide dormant in the rock, using little energy, until prey happens by.”
“I’ll take a wolfdragon over those little bastards any day.” Dustan pawed at his ears.
Hissing and a sound like paper crackling echoed through the passage. The walls writhed in a solid mass of the ticks and came flooding onto the walkway.
“Get outta here,” screamed Dustan.
They rushed away from the sea of insects, slipping and sliding in their haste to escape the vile creatures. At the top of an incline, a series of rock appendages protruded from the walls. Below them, a vaporous mist swirled. Dustan leapt onto the first slab and turned to catch Kyra as she jumped across, followed by Lailah. The first wave of bugs tumbled over the edge. Those farther behind took flight on wispy wings.
“Goddammit, they can fly.” Dustan launched an orb, blasting a score of the ticks from the path.
“Not well. And not swiftly or high,” said Kyra. “Keep moving.”
They vaulted to the second block. A thunderous crack and billowing dust from the rock’s base sent them teetering to the tilted edge. Skating on the slick surface, Dustan clawed at the platform for purchase. The stone shattered. The three plummeted into the mist.
Dustan hit hard on a ridge four feet wide and slippery with condensation. Kyra and Lailah smacked down behind him. They slid a hundred feet at a near vertical drop before taking a hard right turn. Lailah whipped from the track with a yelp. Kyra caught her ankle as the snaking descent looped around, and tugged the changeling into her lap. The crest rocketed them through the cavern like kids on a waterslide designed by M.C. Escher. Ducking low rocks and shifting weight to remain seated, Dustan felt his stomach rise and fall in synch with every twist and dive. After racing up a slight rise, the slide turned down again. The three sandwiched tight against each other and braced as the ridge spilled them into open air.
They struck the ground in successive slaps and pained groans. Dustan raised himself onto his elbows, shook his head, and looked around the area. They had landed in a square crevasse with a natural staircase of rock ledges at one end. A score of ticks lay on their backs, legs twitching in the air. He had no idea what killed them, perhaps something in the fog, though he didn’t truly care so long as they were dead or dying.
Kyra and Lailah rested a moment to allow for healing, then brushed themselves off, and the three proceeded to the stairs. They wound around and down between smooth white walls dusted with glitter. Dustan inspected the stone and noticed the sparkle emanated from tiny insects akin to ladybugs. After the ticks, he shied away, though he must admit they were beautiful.
“Those aren’t going to attack us are they?” he asked Kyra.
“No. The glintflies are harmless.” She set her index finger beneath one and it crawled onto her hand. A moment later, it flew into the air.
A faint buzz followed as millions of glintflies filled the open cavern. Dustan gasped. It looked like a gentle swirling snow, flakes in brilliant colors of every imaginable shade. They continued down, the flies hovering around them, alighting on their arms and heads. Lailah laughed and twirled, her hands outstretched. At the foot of the descent, they found a blue-white curtain of shimmery light. A gateway cut in the wall flickered and solidified.
“The In Between,” Dustan said in an almost reverent whisper.
He traipsed across the Moat unconcerned. Kyra, who had been here long ago, held tight to his arm and jumped at sudden sounds. Lailah shifted several times to confront one creature or another. When Dustan shouted her down, she snarled and snapped at the threat before morphing back into her first form.
Hadraniel met them at the gates to the city. Spiraling staircases winding into the air, the central cathedral, and all the mesmerizing sights rendered them speechless. The tall man allowed them time to acclimate, strolling ahead at a leisurely pace. Dustan’s dream visit did little to prepare him for the majesty of the In Between. Unaligned in vibrant robes smiled as they passed on the plaza while others stood high above and waved from balconies. The flames over the tower pinnacles blazed brighter than before, beacons signaling their arrival.
In the cathedral’s central chamber, a crowd of unaligned came rushing. They clasped their arms and patted them on t
he back. All welcomed them with smiles and gratitude. Lailah’s presence surprised some, but many knew of her kind and hugged her with sympathy. She offered shy smiles and returned their embraces.
They followed Hadraniel into an antechamber near the rear of the great hall. Murals of strange worlds adorned the walls. Dustan recognized the human realm in one—a depiction of Adam and Eve in the Garden. The others displayed creatures in myriad forms rising from the ground or water, or materializing in the air. Realms beautiful, eerie, and grotesque surrounded the creatures as each world took its first breath.
Hadraniel took a seat at the head of a large oval table. Dustan appraised their host. Close to seven feet tall, the man possessed a regal air. He appeared to be fifty or so, but now Dustan could see the ancient wisdom in his eyes. A cobalt aura accented his navy robe. This man belongs on Olympus.
“Welcome friends,” he said with a warm, amicable smile. “You have journeyed far and still have far to travel. I am pleased you made it to us, but the danger is not at an end.”
In an adjacent room, shelves filled with brilliant spheres glowed. Thousands of them, stacked row upon row.
“What are those?” asked Dustan.
Hadraniel craned his head toward the archway. “A library.”
Kyra gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “But I thought all the spheres were destroyed.
“I do apologize for keeping them secret from you. However, the demons hunted you. If they learned we recovered many of the lost spheres, their efforts to find this realm would know no bounds. They seek us with great vehemence now. We could not afford to stoke the fire.”
Kyra glanced at Dustan. “You recall the library I told you about? Housing eons of our history?”
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