The chase was on. Lucy against all other mares. They were close, but in the end, they were no match. However, they did not give up on chasing the trio. It seemed as though the traders were increasing in distance, but they still didn't quit.
“I think we're losing them!” Lenthean declared.
“Not quite, Shadowling!” Valdorath corrected.
“They'll chase us until they have no choice but to turn around!”
“Did you really have to hit the guy?!” Lenthean asked. They both shouted over the sound of Lucy's rapid hooves. “He was saying too much! I didn't see you do much, you old hunchback! Way to get us exposed! They would have looked at me either way! Walking around like some hooded hermit would've drawn just as much attention!”
“You idiot boy! None of this would've happened if it wasn't for you! Next time do as I say!”
“Or what?!”
“Or you best be sorry!”
“Oh, real nice!”
The two were not getting along. But really, there was no choice, unless Valdorath chose to leave Lenthean behind. Lenthean didn't think the old man would do that, but of course he never knew. The trio rode off as the sun rose and fell. It seemed the pursuit had ceased.
The rolling yellow hills had been turning emerald green, and a fairly cooler climate accompanied it. Lucy began to trot again, clearly winding down for the day. Lenthean could see all sorts of insects, flying and jumping from one blade of grass to another. They were off the trail again, and tree patches had begun to spring about their path.
Valdorath climbed off Lucy once she stopped. His routine: thanking her for the good ride, giving her a treat from his pocket sleeve, then packing his pipe full of tobacco. Every time. Much like the last two nights, he gathered the lumber for a small fire. Lenthean rolled his eyes. This man is stuck in his ways, Lenthean thought. Is this what he was destined to? To be paired with this stubborn, routine-oriented rude old man?
“We're going to have the fire for only an hour, maybe two. So warm up while you can. Can't be seen by those goons you aroused back there.”
Lenthean was angry, but ignored the comment. “Why do they want us?” Lenthean asked.
“They want to kill you for what you are, turn you in for ransom, or lie to you then do option one or two. They chose the third choice, wanting me to 'save them'. Not sure if you heard that rubbish.”
Lenthean climbed off of the horse and spread a blanket out, heading straight for sleep. “You don't want a fire?” Valdorath asked.
“No.” Lenthean said, laying down.
9: The Nightmare
Lenthean opened his eyes; he was in Fredrickstown. The sun was bright, the breeze was cool. He looked around from his position at the front of the town's entrance. The wooden structures were all here, but none of the people. He was in absolute disbelief. Was all of that stuff with Valdorath a dream?
The real question was: where was everybody?
He ran from store to store, home to home, structure to structure. Everything was exactly where it was the day he left home. But there were no people. No animals. It was empty, but all of it was here. He felt fear strike him as he took off on foot to Zuthar's meat shop. He barged in, only to hear that classic bell jingle as the door opened. “Uncle!” the boy shouted.
There was no answer. The slaughtered meat with cleaver was there—even the bloody apron.
That's when he saw his home through the wooden shop window, at the end of the stretch. He ran for it and called for his mother when entering. The chimes were blowing, but nothing else. This was all so strange.
“Momma!” he called.
Nothing.
He climbed the ladder up to his room. His belongings were just the way he left them the day he had taken off. He grabbed some of his old toys to verify this was all real. It was. But he couldn’t figure out for the life of him, where was everyone?
He went back down the ladder to the main level. His feet made the old structure creak as he stepped on the floor. He turned around, looking for anyone to talk to.
That's when he glanced downward, only to find his foot sinking into what used to be the firm wooden foundation. His left foot was slowly pressing into the floor as if the base of the home was melting—or made of quicksand. Panicking, he latched onto his knee and tugged to free his sinking foot. With his incessant squirming, his other foot began to sink too. Lenthean panicked more and attempted to crawl out of his own home that now consumed his feet. The foundation had such a firm grip on his ankles and calves he could not even bend properly to crawl free.
“HELP!” the boy cried to no one. He was now waist deep. His fingernails scraped the wood, piercing his skin with splinters from the wooden floor. The splinters didn’t matter to him, for he had to free himself. Now engulfed up to his torso, the swallowed parts of his body felt like they were being squeezed to the point of popping. The boy grunted and frantically scrambled to free himself. He began to hyperventilate, breathing faster than he could handle. He screamed for anyone to help him. That’s when he saw his mother.
“MOM!” he shouted. She was in her thickly woven dress, staring at him from the fireplace. Standing. Unmoving. Expressionless.
“HELP!” he begged her.
Her eyes rolled back into her head until all he could see was white. Her mouth opened and her jaw began to fall off her face, as if it was melting down to the floor. Millions—if not billions—of spiders crawled over one another to escape the gaping hole of her mouth. Her body fell forward, stiff as a board, with a knife in her back.
Lenthean screamed as he witnessed his mother’s body ignite into flames. He squirmed and tried to avert his eyes, but he could not.
Zuthar walked right past Lenthean’s exposed head—he had a terrible, unnatural limp. Lenthean had tears running from his eyes, screaming at everything he was seeing. Zuthar turned around and picked up Ayla’s body, now deceased to the form of an empty bag of skin drenched in spiders. He limped over to Lenthean with his eyes shut, Ayla in his arms. Zuthar opened his eyes only to have them as white as Lenthean’s mother’s eyes.
Zuthar’s eyeballs rolled back into his head. A broad, wicked smile consumed his face. Spiders were creeping out of his nose and ears as he spoke, saying, “How was your day, my boy?” His voice was deep and contorted. “Your mother was worried sick.”
Lenthean’s mother was melting like liquid in Zuthar’s fingers.
“Don’t worry, my boy.”
“Don’t worry, my boy.”
“Don’t, worry my boy.”
“Don’t worry, my boy.”
“Don’t worry, my boy.”
“Don’t worry, my boy.”
Zuthar fell to the ground on all fours, writhing in pain, squirming and kicking. He grabbed his face as it melted from the inside out.
Lenthean screamed more than he had ever before—the floor was up to his chin. He witnessed Zuthar spasm on the floor, knocking down furniture in his extreme amount of agony.
He was transforming . . . to who?
He transformed to the bully from his school, Gaundore.
The bully rose to his feet from where only moments before Zuthar had been squirming in absolute agony. Eyes still white, he spoke: “You are nothing.” The bully’s head turned around with his neck snapping and popping. As it made full circle, it was the head of Kethar.
“I will find you, Shadow One. I will find you and murder you. Or worse, sell you to the highest bidder. The enslaved Elementalist,” his deep voice boomed.
Only Lenthean’s nose and eyes were above ground now. The whole home was melting with Kethar. Suddenly the environment popped like a bubble. Lenthean was still in the floor, but the surroundings were black—black as black—as he witnessed his people being rounded up by tall, blonde-white-haired peoples, tall and aryan. Pointed ears towered above their heads. The Der’ Tanellians he had heard so much about were doing this. Whipping the people he grew up with, the people of Fredrickstown, torturing them; it was absolutely horrendous an
d terrifying.
Lenthean could hear only his muffled shouts as he sunk helplessly in the rock-solid foundation he was stuck in. He was in absolute fear and terror.
Unfortunately for the boy, these images and experiences lasted a number of hours more. To him, they lasted a lifetime.
That’s when he finally fell through the floor and was free falling in blackness.
Lenthean had fallen for quite some time, but the impact didn’t hurt him at all. He lifted himself off the ground, coughing from the dusty grey smog he was inhaling from the surface.
Everything was dusty—everything. He examined his fingers as they got covered in black soot from touching anything. The walls were jagged-looking boulders of smog-gray color, and it was exceptionally dark. The room he was in was no bigger than his height in both dimensions, with a rock door in front of him. His breathing echoed in this small tunneled room.
Lenthean’s tears of fear and trauma mixed with the soot on his face made for some interesting patterns of blackness. He was so petrified to leave his space of solitude. What was on the other side of this door? There was no escape besides stepping through it. Upward was nothing but blackness, and the walls certainly weren’t going anywhere. Should he risk the door? Would he be free of this madness?
Reluctantly, after several tens of minutes weeping and gaining composure, he inched toward the door, cautiously pressing it as it began to open. The echo was immense on the other side of the door. It was some sort of cavern, a cave with black stalagmites and stalactites. The step down from the door wasn’t a step, but a drop down from the door that was waist height. The floor was loose black sud; the walls, roof, and everything else was glossy, smooth, sharp, and black. This room—its sheer size was absolutely breathtaking, even in his absolute terror. The ceiling felt as high as the sky, the columns supporting it were twisting and crooked as they looked like the earth had crafted them. Directly ahead of Lenthean was a throne the size of a small mountain; no one was sitting in it.
Lenthean stood for a moment, deciding what to do with this discovery. As far as the eye could see, there was no way out anywhere, a near pitch-black cave, and a throne clearly meant for a massive being. He could hear whispers coming and going.
“Come in!” a delighted voice beckoned through the empty throne-cave. Echoing hundreds and hundreds of times, the loud volume made Lenthean jump from his position. “I can see you there!”
Lenthean hid behind the door, still traumatized by what happened before.
“I can see you everywhere. Hehehaha… HAHAHA!” The voice was maniacal and devious with its echoing laughter. “Your fear beckons you,” the voice said. “Let it.”
Lenthean emerged cautiously. Slipping down the step from the door, he sniffled and wiped the snot from his nose. He saw his arm getting covered in the black particles that floated in the air down here. They landed on his skin, latching on, smearing like black chalk on his light pigmentation.
“What are you?! Where are you?” Lenthean shouted, attempting to sound intimidating. “Show yourself!”
“I can feel your fear, Lenthean.”
His heart was absolutely racing, afraid of more horrible imagery coming his way.
“You can see me if you try a little harder. Hee hee haha HAHA!”
Lenthean looked around, attempting to find the voice and identify this culprit. The voice still echoed its vicious giggle.
Lenthean stared intently at the throne. At the head rest. Was that—was that a smile? A pearl-white smile?
“OOOPS!” The mouth stretched. “YOU CAUGHT ME! HEHE HAHA!” The teeth were white and mostly aligned perfectly. The smile spread thin and wide across the throne as it spoke. Suddenly a figure emerged from the wall with the mouth stuck with it. It stood up from the chair and looked down on Lenthean.
Lenthean had never seen anything like it. This was a giant as tall as the ceiling, thousands of stories tall. Head round and bald, body and torso thin like an overstretched twig. Its color was the same as the walls and floor—black, with no eyes. The only definitive features were its massive, glowing, white smile and hieroglyphic black eye, placed in the epicenter of its forehead. It continued to laugh, reclining in its throne, crossing its legs and intertwining its fingers. The smile wouldn’t break—not for one second. It was terrifying.
“Welcome home,” the figure spoke, smiling.
“What is this insanity?” Lenthean asked.
The figure seemed giddy with Lenthean’s statement. “This is the underworld.” The figure smiled, twisting its head much like a dog would when hearing its name.
“I brought you here. Fancy that, hmm?”
“What do you want from me?” Lenthean barked with tears of fear filling his eyes once more.
“You belong to me,” the figure smiled. “My slave,” the figure giggled. “You are to be my humble servant. Aren’t you so lucky?”
The figure stretched its neck all the way to Lenthean’s position from its throne. The figure’s face was just a nose away from Lenthean, and its head was the size of Lenthean’s whole body, if not double.
“I am the God of Shadows,” the figure smirked, pulling its head back to its original position.
“I don’t want this! FIND SOMEONE ELSE! I will not be your toy!” Lenthean shouted.
“HAHAHA! I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice… You listen to me, or I will haunt you until you do.” The figure smirked again.
“Why?” Lenthean questioned, begging. “Why do you do this to people?”
“Well, we need someone to keep the balance in place, right?” The figure smiled more. Giggling, it continued. “The goddess of light does the right, and I do the wrong!” It clapped its hands and wiggled on the throne. “Oh, it just feels so right! Don’t you think?!”
“No.”
“NO?! Lenthean, who is there when the light shines down upon you with its judgment? Me. Who is always there, giving validity to the substance that comprises you into the very being you are, and follows you wherever you go? ME! Without me, you would always be alone! The whole world would be! Shadows accompany all of you! And this is the thanks I get?!”
“I don’t really see the need to thank you for doing horrible things to people.”
“Teehee! The physical realm is driven by fear, boy. It’s more than just being company with all the mortals. Fear is only introduced through nightmares, especially at a young age. How else would beings in the physical realm know about fear? Mortals fear the unknown, Lenthean. That is why kids shudder in the dark. More in tune with their pre-mortal bodies than the rest of you, they are. They see demons in dark places. Do they not? Fear is the only way anything gets done in the mortal realm. Economic powers are driven by fear: the fear of losing a job—the fear of not being able to feed your family—wars waged from fear of being invaded—fear of your family being massacred—fear of other cultures and people… All driven by yours truly.” The figure smiled broader than ever and pointed to itself.
It continued. “I drive the entire mortal realm through the subconscious; mortals are completely unaware I am there! The shadow of the figure is the subconscious of the mind! Ruler of a dimension! Fear! Fear drives all things, Lenthean. Without me? The mortal realm would not progress in any regard… biologically, culturally, economically… None of it, without the underlying fear of… fear. It’s great, isn’t it? I love it.”
Lenthean was shocked at what seemed like twisted logic.
“I feel everything you feel, Lenthean. Especially when you’re afraid. It gets me excited when people are terrified. Because that means I am doing my job, I am moving the world forward. Isn’t that great?! I feel everyone’s fear. Fear is the only way of accomplishing anything. And I just know it better than anyone. Hmm… Use it on anyone that stands in your way. Because in the end, all things are afraid. Even the mightiest of them all.”
The God of Shadows smiled and waved goodbye. “Off you go now. Teehee.”
“Wait, WAIT!” Lenthean called out. He
was ejected up through the air into the ceiling when. . .
Lenthean sat up under the morning sun. Valdorath knelt beside him. Lenthean lifted himself to a seated position.
“I know what you just went through, Lenthean.”
Lenthean locked eyes with Valdorath.
“I know what you saw. I know of it… anyway. I had to let you endure it.”
Lenthean’s heart rate finally began to slow. The grass beneath him, the cool air, the dimmed campfire. Reality was back.
Elementalist: The New Inheritance Page 6