Mythbound Trilogy Boxed Set

by Cory Barclay

  “I like it!” she said happily. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Richard. Thank you for your help.” She waggled her fingers at him as she left. “Bye-bye now!”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Steve and Aiden trailed behind Pua Kila and her Nawao warriors. They galloped down the freeway, their horses’ hooves turning heads as they passed.

  A few hours into their journey, they had stopped at a large stable on the side of the freeway. The structure was giant—a warehouse for steeds—and Aiden had conjured up a small pouch of gold from his pocket. The gold was enough to purchase eight horses for the group, almost enough for everyone to ride. A couple of the Nawao warriors doubled up. The stablemaster was ecstatic, realizing he’d become one of the richest stablemen in Soreltris.

  After the purchase, Aiden mentioned his funds were depleted until they returned to his house.

  With the horses in tow, the three-day journey turned into just over three hours. They shifted between a trot and a gallop to make their way down the freeway. During one of the lulls, when the horses were allowed to rest and drink, Steve tried to reach out to his other friends.

  He took hold of Aiden’s gold coin and closed his eyes. His eyes flickered underneath his lids as he swept through his mind’s tunnels. When he opened his eyes, he was in Aiden’s house. The dream-leap was a success.

  Steve stood in a large room, surrounded by bookshelves. The walls were painted black and gold. He walked away from the shelves and came to an empty space. Dale sat at the end of the room, on a chair, actually reading a book.

  Steve studied his friend for a moment with a bemused expression. He’d never known Dale to be a reader.

  He said, “Fats,” in a low voice.

  Startled, his friend dropped the book and jumped in his seat, clearly not expecting a voice to come out of thin air. And why would he, when he’d heard no footsteps entering the room?

  Dale squinted and turned left, then right. He stared back at Steve and said, “Steve-o? Are you really here?”

  Steve shook his head. “No, I’m en route to the Spirit Watcher in Central Soreltris.”

  “The who in the what?”

  “Never mind.”

  “How . . . can I see you?” Dale asked.

  “I’m in your mind.”

  Dale looked alarmed. “I’m going crazy?”

  “No,” Steve said with a chuckle. “I’m in Ethereus. It’s a long story; one I’ll explain when I see you in person. I don’t have much time. How are things getting along there?”

  Dale shrugged. “I’m deathly bored. The fairy land isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, man.”

  “I think your opinion will change before too long.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Besides,” Steve added, “boring is better than barbaric. You should enjoy your leisure time while you have it.”

  “I guess,” Dale said. He didn’t sound convinced boredom was better than excitement. His ADHD must have been rampant, Steve figured.

  Steve paused. When he spoke, he nudged his chin toward the book on the ground. “What were you reading?”

  Dale shrugged. “It’s not in English.”

  “You’re . . . reading something you don’t understand?”

  “It has pictures.”

  “Ah.”

  “I think it’s a spellbook of some kind. There are lots of pictures of women burning and drowning folks. There are some hardcore chicks in this place.”

  Steve chuckled again. “You’re telling me.” He hesitated, looking around the library, to the door. Then he asked, “Where’s Shepherd and Scarlet?”

  “I think they’re ‘enjoying their leisure time.’ ”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They started fuckin’, I believe.”

  Steve’s eyes bulged. Baffled, he said, “Scarlet is having sex with the former blackguard, Brethren defector?”

  Dale half-nodded. “Based on the sounds I’ve been hearing, they aren’t having sex. They’re fuckin’.”

  Steve scratched his scalp and ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus. That’s . . . unexpected.”

  “I know,” Dale said. “But Scarlet is a succubus, right? I guess she can hardly help herself.”

  “I’m not quite sure it works that way.”

  “Either way,” Dale said, shrugging, “maybe she needs to put herself back in recovery. Last night, I offered to keep her company at a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting when we get back home.”

  Steve felt his stomach sink. Dale’s words reminded him of something. But to prolong the inevitable, he said, “I have a feeling you have an ulterior motive for attending those meetings.”

  Dale acted shocked, putting a palm to his chest and lurching back in his seat. “Me? Steve-o, you wound me. I’m happily besotted.”

  Steve let out a snort of laughter. “Besotted? Jeez, Fats, sounds like you really have been reading.” Then his face got a bit more serious. “Do you think Shannon will be there when we return?”

  Dale seemed to melt back in his seat a little, a telltale sign that he was feeling uncomfortable. “I hope so.”

  A short pause followed. Dale stared at the ground in an introspective manner, and Steve stared at him.

  Dale lifted his head. “Hey, do you think they have Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings here?”

  “In Mythicus? I, uh, doubt it.”

  “Damn,” Dale replied, and Steve couldn’t tell if he was being serious or his usual goofy self.

  Another awkward pause followed. There weren’t too many times when a silence between Steve and Dale was awkward. But bringing up Shannon’s loyalty, Scarlet having sex with Shepherd, all while Steve was in another world, made for an uncomfortable moment.

  “I guess I’ll have to wait ‘til we’re back home, then,” Dale added at last.

  Steve had butterflies in his stomach again. I have to tell him, he thought, shaking his head.

  “Tell me what?” Dale asked.

  Steve fumbled for words. He’d forgotten his thoughts weren’t his own when he was occupying someone else’s mind. After stammering for a moment, he said, “It’s about . . . home.”

  Dale cocked his head to the side.

  Steve took a deep breath and let the words fly. “I’m sorry to say, but Charlene was killed earlier today. It’s another long story. But you deserve to know.”

  “The blue-haired girl?” Dale asked, not catching on.

  Steve nodded. “And your Myth Maker.”

  Dale tugged at the flabby skin under his chin. His voice grew stern. “What does that mean for us?”

  “I’m not sure, Fats,” Steve said, trying to use a light, conversational tone. “I have it on semi-good authority that . . . well . . . it means you don’t have a ride home, so to speak.”

  Dale’s mouth fell open. “Y-You mean . . . I’m stuck here?”

  Steve slowly nodded. He shrugged, trying to lessen the sting. “Don’t throw away the Lego in your pocket just yet, though, man. I have a plan. Remember how I came crashing through your window that time, with Aiden?”

  “You mean when I barged into the bathroom and almost panic-slapped you with my di—” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “I told Shannon I’d try to speak less crudely, so I’m going to try that again. Yes, Steve-o, I remember that.”

  “Well, I was able to do that through a magical mirror here. I’m hoping we can do it again, when this is all done. But you’ll need your Conveyor—the Lego piece—to do it. So don’t lose it.”

  “Right. Scarlet told me a bit about the Parallel Reflector. It still doesn’t make sense to me, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  Steve heard voices, but they weren’t coming from another room. They were inside his mind. He knew his time in Dale’s Ethereus plane was coming to an end. “Shit, I’ve got to go, Fats.”

  Dale stood from the chair, slightly wobbly. He blinked twice in rapid succession.

  “Are you all right?” Steve asked, taking a step toward
him.

  Dale nodded. “I’ve been drinking all of Aiden’s . . . mead . . . I think it’s called? Well, whatever it is, it’s got me pretty tossed.”

  Steve smiled. “I’d expect nothing less, Fats.”

  The voices were getting louder in his head. One of them sounded like Pua Kila was trying to barge into his thoughts.

  Dale could see Steve was distracted. With a bit of worry in his voice, he said, “When can I expect you here? I feel like we won’t be safe here forever, man.”

  “Soon, Dale. As soon as I deal with this woman in the woods, I’ll be there. Expect me by tomorrow at the latest.”

  “Right-o, Steve-o.”

  Dale presented Steve with a drunken military salute.

  As Steve disappeared from Dale’s sight, he couldn’t help but worry about the scared, lost look on Dale’s face.

  “IT’S TIME TO RIDE ONCE more,” Pua Kila told Steve.

  Steve rubbed his temples, trying to massage the dull headache away. The horses were fed and watered, and everyone except Steve had rested for nearly an hour.

  “From here,” Pua Kila added, “it will be a direct journey to the burial cave. We should be there as the sun sinks below the horizon.”

  “Right,” Steve said.

  Without exchanging any more words, they were off, mounting their horses and spurring them onward.

  Galloping down the road, the wind blew into his face and he held on for dear life. When the horses slowed to a trot, things became more relaxed.

  At one point, Steve asked no one in particular, “I think I’ve figured out what Geddon turned into.” He’d been curious about Geddon’s Mythic status ever since seeing him. In the woods escaping the Overseer’s castle, he’d finally seen the first evidence of Geddon’s true self. He’d transformed into a giant, black-furred monster.

  Aiden raised his eyebrows as he bounced on his horse, riding alongside Steve.

  “A werebear?” Steve guessed. “Like a werewolf but . . . a bear.”

  Aiden shrugged. “I didn’t get a good look at his face. I was busy trying to outrun you.”

  Steve snorted. He remembered the old adage: if you’re running from a bear, you don’t have to be faster than the bear, just faster than your friends.

  Pua Kila called from the front of the group. “No, Koa Steve, Geddon is not a werebear. But you’re close. He is a bugbear.”

  Steve furrowed his brow. “Did you say a . . . bugbear? But he didn’t look anything like a bug.”

  A gentle chuckle swept through the ranks of the Nawao warriors. Apparently, Steve had made a marvelous jest.

  But he simply felt like an idiot.

  “A bugbear is a type of hobgoblin,” Pua Kila said. She turned in her saddle to face Steve with an unsure expression on her face. “A, uh, bogeyman, I believe your people would call it.”

  Steve scoffed, incredulous. “You mean a monster that hides under beds and scares children? That kind of bogeyman?”

  Pua Kila shook her head. “There are many types of bogeymen. Geddon is not that type.”

  “Then what type is he?”

  “I do not know,” Pua Kila said with a shrug. She turned back in her saddle, facing forward, and kicked the flanks of her steed. “Come on, let us move again.”

  Just like that, the conversation was over. The horses were barreling down the freeway again.

  Pua Kila was almost exact in her timing. The sun was setting as they reached the northern edge of the Central Soreltris forest.

  Steve admired the horizon for a moment—in fact, the entire party did. The great orange sun molded the sky into a brilliant pink and red painting. Then it disappeared behind the ocean in the distance.

  With that signal, the group dismounted and led their horses by their bridles, into the forest.

  Pua Kila and the men and women she traveled with were expert trackers. Only Steve and Aiden were out of their element here. But Steve had begun to learn little tricks of the trade, from his time working in the Reynolds household.

  They crept through the woods, making sure to take the paths most traveled. It made it easier for the horses to navigate through. They did not fear bandits or robbers, or even blackguards. No one would be foolish enough to attack an armed retinue of trained, heathen-looking, spear-wielding warriors.

  Steve felt a moment of déjà vu as he trailed behind the barebacked Nawao warriors. He felt like he was in Apocalypto, the Mel Gibson film, following his tribe through the trees, heading toward prosperity. Or, in the case of the movie, certain death and subjugation to the conquistadors.

  Steve saw trees that leaned a certain way—rocks piled a certain way—and felt he was passing through familiar territory. He went up hills he thought he recognized. But as they went deeper into the woods, he lost track of all that and noticed he was lost once more. I was probably lost to begin with, he thought.

  They came to the clearing by following a thin, trickling stream. The stream led them through underbrush and low-hanging branches. It widened, eventually passing underneath a natural bridge in the landscape. Then it opened up into a wider body of water. Steve noticed the waterfall at the back, spilling into the medium-sized pond.

  The waterfall poured over the mouth of a shallow cave. It had probably created the cave through centuries of erosion.

  Steve understood where the déjà vu was coming from. He had been here before. He’d just been in Lig’s body during that time.

  Pua Kila cautiously crept toward the cave. Steve and Aiden were close behind, and the superstitious Nawao warriors lagged a bit. The native Hawaiian soldiers had their spears leveled and were ready for anything to pop out at them. It was like they expected a dragon to come slithering out of the cave, so apprehensive did they seem. Maybe it’s superstition, Steve thought.

  The group reached fifteen paces out from the mouth of the cave. The waterfall had built into a loud, continuous stream that stole the other noises of the forest from their ears.

  Then a howl erupted and shattered the smooth serenity.

  Everyone’s eyes darted above the cave, to where the waterfall started about ten feet in the air. A wolf was perched on the bank, staring down at them with piercing yellow eyes.

  The Nawao murmured to themselves and tightened into a military formation, unnerved by the eerie appearance of the wolf.

  Steve stepped forward.

  He said, “Fuscia, I know that’s you!”

  The wolf stared at him but made no sudden movements.

  In the sky, the red sheen had become purple. The moon had finally come out to play, shining murky light through the canopies in spidery tendrils that lit up the ground.

  It must have been serendipity, or tremendous timing on Pua Kila’s part, because at that very moment the wolf in front of them began to change.

  The hair on her four legs faded away and the fur became finer. Her hind legs shortened, making her misshapen, and her front legs followed. She howled and growled in rage as if she were fighting against the transformation. She put her forehead against the ground so no one could see the expression on her wolfish face. The entire shape of her head changed. It made grotesque cracks and snaps, like she was being subjected to the ultimate chiropractic treatment.

  When she slowly lifted her head, it was the head of a woman. Only her eyes remained yellow, to show the wolf underneath her skin of human flesh. She was on her belly, facedown, and took a moment to gather her bearings.

  Then Fuscia stood, naked as always, and said, “Steven Remington, you have come. The Spirit Watcher has been awaiting your arrival.”

  Steve’s eyes were still huge in his head, unable to comprehend what he’d just seen. The transformation from wolf to woman had seemed excruciatingly painful. It had not been like he’d seen in the movies. Even now, Fuscia didn’t seem completely herself.

  “Step forward,” Fuscia commanded, putting her hands on her hips.

  At first, Steve’s eyes glanced at her unabashed, hairy pubic region. Then he looked away, emba
rrassed, and did as he was told.

  His eyes narrowed on the cave. He squinted. It took a moment, but before long, he noticed a humanoid shape in the reflection of the water. No, behind the water.

  A hand reached out and passed through the waterfall, beckoning Steve forward with a long-nailed finger. No water seemed to soak the person’s dark, black sleeves.

  Steve gulped and turned around.

  Pua Kila, Aiden, and the Nawao warriors were nowhere to be seen.

  He panicked.

  His eyes shot up overhead, to the top of the cave, but even Fuscia was gone from sight.

  Where is everyone?!

  Come forward, a voice said in his head. The voice sounded utterly familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d known it. It was like he’d heard the voice in a dream, from when he was a child . . .

  Steve stopped at the mouth of the cave, before the waterfall. He could see the spittle flying off the pond as the waterfall plunged into it. But he couldn’t feel any droplets of water.

  Come, the voice said, into the waterfall.

  Steve creased his brow and screwed up his face.

  Trust me.

  He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  The water neither caressed nor touched him as he passed through the waterfall.

  Once inside the mouth of the cave, he stared at the black-veiled figure in front of him. She was shorter, coming up to his shoulders. Blonde hair poked out from the ends of her veil. He could almost see the outline of her face.

  The light of the moon beamed onto the waterfall, which in turn reflected into the cave in a shadowy, Rorschach blotch.

  Steve found he was holding his breath.

  The Spirit Watcher put her hands to her veil and pulled the mask up over her head.

  Time seemed to slow down.

  With the veil removed, the Spirit Watcher lifted her face and locked eyes with Steve, studying his face for recognition. She had a very normal, pretty face. He’d been expecting a crone. It was wrinkled in a few places and her blonde hair was dashed with white. She seemed to be about fifty years old, give or take, and Steve thought—

  His heart stopped in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He uttered a gasp and took a step back, until he was against the rocky wall of the cave.