Halcyon Rising_Bastion of Hope

by Stone Thomas

“Such as, never step on a shadow’s face unless you want the darkness to swallow you whole,” she said.

  “Is that why you were jumping over these shadows?” I asked.

  “I thought you knew,” she said. “You were jumping over the shadows too!”

  “Yes,” Cindra said, “but we didn’t know why. You should try communicating what’s going on in that pretty head. You’re a smart girl, Mamba. You know things we don’t.”

  The shadows swirled ahead of us, behind us, and on every side. They howled in low sounds that gradually rose in pitch.

  “When they swallow people whole,” I asked, “then what?”

  “I’ve heard the word netherworld used,” Mamba said, “but I’m not sure I have a full appreciation for what that means.”

  “Let’s not learn,” Cindra said. She raised her bow and aimed an arrow at one of the shadowy forms that sped past her. It sailed through the shade’s body and landed in the dirt a hundred feet away.

  Mamba reached her hands out and summoned a handful of snakes. The animals emerged from the dirt and writhed in a heap on top of themselves as they prepared their attack. Each snake coiled up tight, then launched at the darkness that encroached on us.

  No matter how hard I sliced at the shadows, or how many times I activated Piercing Blow, I did no damage. I didn’t even slow their constant swirling. The snakes all launched at the nothingness without making any contact with these strange monsters.

  “How do we fight this?” I asked.

  “The darkwind is a foe of fire,” Mamba said, “but none of my snakies can burn.”

  “Fire is something we don’t have,” I said. “There’s got to be something else.”

  “I could ask Larry for help,” Mamba said, shouting over the rising volume of the wind.

  “What does Larry do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I invited him to the mine, but he refused to attend. Maybe he doesn’t like small places.”

  “Do it,” I said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  The ground shook violently as Mamba pointed her arms out side to side. With her hips gyrating in quick, sharp motions and her arms waving outward, a chasm split open the earth. Cindra and I backed away from it, moving closer to Mamba and allowing Larry to burst through the ground.

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” Mamba exclaimed as an enormous creature erupted from below. “He’s a bonersnake!”

  The snake’s head was a huge skull, connected to a spine that never seemed to end. Tightly packed rib bones curled from that spine in smaller and smaller rings until the snake’s tail came to a narrow point.

  “Will he chase the shadows away?” I asked. Larry had shot straight into the air, but once his body was completely free of the earth, he pivoted and aimed his skull back downward.

  “He’s not interested in fighting,” Mamba said. “Larry! The darkwind is closing in.”

  The bonersnake’s jaw opened impossibly wide as he crashed down toward us. It wasn’t the darkwind that we had to worry about swallowing us whole. It was Larry. He snapped his jaw shut, scooping us up in his bony mouth, while the rest of his body landed flat on the ground behind him.

  I grabbed onto a rib bone to avoid falling through the skeleton’s body, and grabbed Cindra’s wrist with my other hand. She scrambled to find a rib bone of her own to cling to. Mamba, however, climbed across those ribs like stepping stones on her way back toward the snake’s skull.

  As darkwind shadows continued to swirl around us, one reached out with a long tendril of blackness. It curled around my ankle first, then began to climb up my leg. My skin turned to ice wherever that dark monster touched me.

  “Mamba,” I said, “we need to get out of here.”

  “He knows,” she said. “That’s why he’s here. Hold on!”

  Mamba perched inside the snake’s jaw like a captain on the bow of a ship. Cindra and I held on for our lives as the skeletal snake sped through the forest and away from the evil shadows. The one that held me in its grip was forced to let go as we wound through the trees.

  Branches snapped against Larry’s skull as he carved a winding path for us across the forest floor. I had to shield my face from the wind as it whipped against my cheeks. Minute after minute we overtook one parcel of land after another in our wild frenzy through the woods.

  The forest became a blur until at last we had broken free from the trees. We bounded across a grassy clearing at a speed that declined to a gradual stop. Larry crept to the center of the clearing, then lay his head on the grass.

  “Mamba,” I said, climbing down from Larry’s ribs. “I can’t even right now. I can’t even.”

  “Can’t even what?” she asked.

  “Words,” I said. “No words, have I, for that.”

  “You don’t like Larry,” Mamba said. “He’s sorry he had to stop, he just got tired.”

  “I think we’re all grateful for Larry’s bold effort,” Cindra said. “Truly. We’re just a little wind-battered is all.” She slid her hands up her torso, reshaping her breasts into perfect spheres before smoothing her stomach flat again.

  I got to my feet and spun around, taking in the enormity of the grass clearing we had stopped in.

  “We covered a lot of ground,” Mamba said. “We made it to Barren Moon.”

  Cindra and I stared at her for a moment. “Oh, right,” she said. “I should explain things sometimes.

  “This is a place of legend,” she continued. “Legend has it, the elves created two ancient weapons that represent their two branches of magic: light and shadow, holy and unholy, dawn and dusk, purity and taint—”

  “There’s taint magic?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Mamba said, “though few venture that far. It lies in the space between.”

  “What do these weapons of legend do?” Cindra asked.

  “They test the soul,” Mamba said. “If they find their match, they draw power from the person who holds it and provide power in return.”

  “And if they don’t find their match?” I asked.

  “The legend doesn’t say,” she replied. “It’s all just talk though, a story that blew across time and nestled in the hearts of the hopeful. The story says that the weapons were placed atop the tallest tower in the world, but the ground opened up and swallowed the building whole.”

  “She must have been sure the weapons would fall into the wrong hands,” Cindra said. “I can’t imagine what it would take to drive a building into the earth.”

  “She?” I asked.

  “The woman who sent that tower into the heart of the world to keep Duul from getting the Sword of War,” she said.

  “Mamba didn’t say anything like that,” I said.

  “Odd,” Cindra said. “Something deep inside my imagination took over.”

  “No one knows where that tower stood,” Mamba said, “but we always believed it was here. My people have lived in the forests forever, traveling in groups large and small. Once a year, we come together here for a feast and a celebration. I miss those days.”

  “Do those celebrations attract shades from the forest?” I asked. “Seems like a dangerous place for a festival.”

  “The darkwind is one reason we think the elves built the tower here,” she replied. “The darkwind is especially drawn to elves and elfish magic. We’re far from the elf lands though, so they must have built it a very long time ago. If it happened.”

  “And the tower must have been enormous,” I said. “This clearing would take an hour just to cross on foot. No wonder you were so tired, Larry.” I put a hand against the snake’s ribs. I was going to pet it when I realized, maybe one doesn’t pet a skeletal snake. It was one of the many things about which I knew nothing.

  “We outran the darkwind,” Cindra said, “but we didn’t lose it. Look.”

  Long tendrils of shadow arced across the ground toward us. They overflowed from the forest, pooling together in one pulsating ball of shadow that sped toward us across the grass
.

  “Larry,” Mamba said, “we have to keep going.”

  The giant snake shook its head and nuzzled its jaw against the ground.

  “He said he can’t,” Mamba said. “This is as far as he can take us.” A rift in the earth opened for Larry to escape into, and when it sealed the ground was back to normal.

  “So perhaps,” I said, “we run.”

  The three of us bolted toward the opposite side of the grassy glade. That way just lay more trees, and potentially another sleeping darkwind waiting for distracted travelers to step on its dark surface and announce the presence of a soul it could whisk away to some netherworld.

  It seemed as if we were surrounded and trapped, but at least Larry had given us a head start.

  My legs ached with effort, but the trees ahead were getting closer. Mamba and Cindra trailed close behind me, with the shadows only gaining a little ground each moment. It couldn’t have endless energy for this chase. There had to be a way out.

  My pace slowed as I continued to run, my legs heavy from lack of power. Mamba and Cindra started to fall further behind, and when one of them yelled out, I turned back to face the monster that chased us.

  It had Cindra by the arms, holding her tight in airborne wisps of dark energy. I ran toward her and sliced Razortooth through the magic that held her in place. My spear sailed through the fiend without harming it. Then it raised its dark arms toward me.

  First my legs, then my hands, then every inch of my body was swallowed by the darkness. I couldn’t see Cindra now, or Mamba. I only heard a faint, low sound like wind rocketing through an abandoned house.

  Icy tendrils of shadow crept inside my ears. They slipped inside my mouth and down my throat. Every inch of my being felt cold, small, and shriveled. It was full-body shrinkage.

  Then there was heat. The creature hissed and recoiled, dropping me to the ground. When light hit my eyes again, I saw a shadow on fire, thrashing in every direction. It slammed its body against the earth, but the fire raged on.

  Mamba, Cindra, and I scrambled to our feet. Standing at the edge of the forest were five men, all in brightly colored clothing. They held bows, and hatchets, and other weapons all alit with flame. As they shot and threw their weapons, the darkwind beast erupted in a brilliant blaze. Its size diminished as the fire broke down the energy that held it together. With a last puff of black smoke, the creature was gone.

  “That was a big one,” the largest of the men said, walking toward us.

  I stumbled toward him, panting. “You saved us,” I said. “Thank you.”

  The five men began to laugh. The one in the lead stepped toward me before speaking. “The lamb thanks the wolf!”

  Then someone pulled a bag over my head and held my arms behind my back.

  +21

  “Let go of me!” I yelled.

  Someone tore my spear from my hands. I felt cold metal clamp around my wrists, but I didn’t hear them click shut. I didn’t hear Mamba or Cindra protest, and I didn’t hear the sound of boots shuffling across the ground even though whoever had just kidnapped us pushed me forward toward the trees.

  With this bag over my head, I heard nothing of the outside world and I suspected the outside world heard nothing from me. It must be enchanted, a tool of a devious trade meant to prevent hostages from speaking to each other, or begging outsiders for help.

  It was a long walk through the forest before we finally stopped and our captors shoved me up a few steps. They pulled the bag off my head and kicked me to the wooden floor of a small room with iron bars for walls. When I turned back, I saw them lock me inside.

  “You won’t get away with this!” I yelled. It was an empty threat. What could I do? Skillmeistering would only make them stronger, and Razortooth was gone.

  A dozen paces away stood a structure that looked like mine. It was a prison cell, but beneath it were wheels. A hitch at the edge of one wall suggested that these cells could be linked up and pulled in tandem, like some kind of evil caravan.

  Inside that cell was a glistening black cretin, its polished metallic skin coming to spikes and horns at its joints. Its eyeless face had a gaping mouth full of jagged teeth, and it wasn’t shy about showing them off. It snarled at me as it bashed in vain against the metal bars.

  Who were these people that they had a cretin captive?

  “Cindra!” I yelled. “Mamba!”

  The large man, who I had first spotted in the clearing, came toward my outdoor cell as he spoke. “Loonlark’s work is done for the night.”

  “Who are you?” I asked. “What do you want with us?”

  “Gorinor,” the man said, bowing in a way that was both dramatic and sarcastic. “I lead this merry band of gypsies. Loonlark is one of ours. She did well, luring you here.”

  “No,” I said, “Mamba wouldn’t mislead me. She’s a sweet, loyal person.”

  “Or she’s a snake in disguise,” Gorinor said. “Do you know what it’s like, being a gypsy?”

  “I know your kind have treated her like a second rate citizen,” I said, “though I’m sure you’ll tell me it was all lies.”

  “No,” the man said, “that was true. Loonlark is a half-breed, we didn’t know what to expect from her. Her father was an elf that was just passing through. Her life-mother, always a bit loose with the lovin’, lured him into our camp. We thought she would swindle him out of some enchanted items and send him on his way. Instead…

  “Can you imagine an adult woman, screwing an elf? Maybe she didn’t even know she was getting poked by the tiny little pecker. Either way, we ended up with Mamba.”

  “You keep calling her Loonlark,” I said.

  “A nickname,” he replied. “Never made any sense, that girl. Half-breeds don’t get to choose what they end up with from each side. One side provides height, another skin tone. One is temperament, the other is fortitude. We figured both sides forgot to give the poor girl a brain.”

  “She’s smarter than you give her credit for,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “You just want to feel better about being tricked by a dimwitted half-breed. There’s no shame in it. She’s a shapely one. Tell me, you slippin’ her the snake?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “She’s a snake charmer,” he said. “She must have charmed yours by now, if she’s anything like her mother. She did well though. I never thought she had it in her to bring us a head priest to play with.”

  “What do you hope to gain through this?” I asked.

  “The life of a gypsy,” the man said, “is two things. Scrounging, and stealing. Of those two, only stealing is any fun. If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that head priests have all the money around here. All that skillmeistering, the coin brought in through paying homage and sponsors paying for skill transfers. We could rob a weapons store, but those men know how to fight. We could rob a mayor, but they have body guards. Head priests? Casual as they come, as if no one would dare take their holy coins from them.

  “We dare,” he continued. “Because only by daring can we survive. It’s our little screw you to the empire that made it so.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said. “I’m not rich. Nola’s temple has no coin, but we do have people, and resources. You don’t have to live alone out here. There’s another way.”

  “Gypsies will not stuff ourselves inside your cramped little cities. This,” he said, gesturing to the trees here and beyond, “this is our city. All the world is our front yard, save the tiny patches walled off by your stones and steel. The empire thinks it’s keeping us out of its delicate civilization. It’s us who are keeping you in.”

  “I have no love for the empire either,” I said.

  “Careful, Father,” he said. “Your lies will get you cursed.”

  “I’m already cursed!” I said. “I’m a scofflaw, marked for trial after violating the empire’s decrees. I’m not the enemy.”

  “I respect that,” the man said. “Under other circumstances, we could ha
ve let each other be. But it doesn’t matter whether you’re my enemy or not. You’re my meal ticket. Where head priests walk, money flows.”

  He gestured toward the wooden prison cart I was trapped within. “We’ve captured many creatures for trade before, and not just leopards or bears. Far beyond the stifling cities, in the wild lands where animals haven’t lost their magic, there are massive beasts that put up impressive fights.

  “Their hides make fine armor, their blood mixes into the boldest potions,” he continued. “And yet, none has ever yielded as much profit as a head priest has.

  “Sleep well,” he said. “In the morning we’ll decide whether to hold you for a large ransom now, or have our psycholowitch convince you to let us into the temple’s treasury ourselves.”

  The cretin in the next cell over continued to snarl at me. “What ransom are you holding him for?” I yelled after the gypsy man as he walked toward the cart containing the vile beast.

  “He’s not for ransom,” the man said, wheeling the creature toward me. “He’s for insurance. Sleep well now.”

  +22

  As the monster’s cell got closer to mine, an evil smile split across the cretin’s face. It thrashed against the metal bars and pumped black magic from its fists.

  An anger all too familiar washed over me. I resisted, better than I had against the last cretins I had fought thanks to my improved attributes. Still, the constant assault of that dark curse turned my blood hot.

  If these gypsies thought a night full of cretin-torture would whittle me down and make me easier to manipulate, they had another thing coming.

  A faint growl formed in my throat against my will, but I ignored it. I opened my skillmeister window. I was tempted to improve every attribute on the list without thinking, but I didn’t want to waste my XP. I had absorbed a lot from Kāya’s evolution, and I needed to invest intelligently.

  The cretin’s curse was a magic attack, nothing more and nothing less. Then it clicked. That’s why Cahn had said a man of his resolve had nothing to fear from the anibomb that teleported us in random directions. He meant Resolve — with a capital R.