by Kris Greene
Azuma sat curled in Asha’s lap, studying the lump of bound flesh in the shadowed corner of the Hummer between the door and rear seats. The creature did not move when Azuma ventured closer to him, but he kept his reptilian eyes glued on the monkey. Azuma reached his hand out cautiously and the creature snapped its razor sharp teeth, barely missing the monkey’s fingers. Azuma shrieked and raked his nails down the side of the goblin’s face before scuttling back into Asha’s lap.
“Vermin!” Gilchrest hissed from the corner. He struggled against his invisible bonds, but even his heightened strength was no match for Asha’s spell. He’d been taken hostage when his brother Orden and his troops had been forced back into the sewers by the blinding light of the trident during the battle at Sanctuary.
“I’d be quiet if I were you,” Jackson snarled at the goblin. He’d wanted to kill the thing, but Jonas thought he might still be of some use to them.
“Be careful how you speak to me, I would,” Gilchrest warned.
“You sure pop a lot of crap for something that’s barely three feet tall,” Gabriel mocked Gilchrest.
Gilchrest turned his hooded eyes to Gabriel and snickered. “Make sport if you will, but I have last laugh. You stink of magic, even for a mutation. The shadows of death follow you like second skin. Bound for the Jihad we all are for long as you stay.”
Jackson snatched Gilchrest off the floor and pressed his face against the UV-resistant tinted window of the Hummer. Slowly he started to roll it down, sending a swift breeze through the vehicle. “Now, I’ve read a thing or two about what direct sunlight can do to you suckers, so unless you shut your damn mouth you’re gonna get a real good view of this sunrise.”
“Destroy me and risk wrath of entire goblin empire!” Gilchrest threatened nervously. He could see the pinkish sky beginning to turn blue.
Jackson flicked one of his blades out and pressed it against Gilchrest’s throat. To Gilchrest’s surprise the blade pierced his rock-hard skin and drew a trickle of blood. “Bullshit. What would make me think that those nasty sons of bitches would give a rat’s ass if a toad like you went missing?”
“Law say any who murder royal family meet slow death. Prince Orden not take kind if baby brother killed by man-things. Eat you I think he will, after boil you alive.”
“That is a goblin prince?” Asha poked him mockingly, which caused Gilchrest to snap at her hand. “Keep that up and I’m gonna show you some of my nastier spells.” Asha’s eyes sparkled as the small gash on Gilchrest’s neck began to bleed more freely.
“Filthy witch!” Gilchrest shook his head from side to side in an attempt to stop the pain spreading across his face.
Rogue placed a soothing hand on Asha’s shoulder and the bleeding stopped. “If this thing is a goblin prince we may be able to use him as a bargaining chip to get Gabriel’s grandfather back.”
“Goblins never barter with topsiders, especially demons posing as humans.” He glared from Rogue to De Mona. Something about the way the goblin looked at her made De Mona uncomfortable. “Why you hide your true face? Afraid they see you for what you really are—a whore of Belthon?”
“That’s it, I’m offing this fucker!” In a flash, De Mona was across the Hummer with her claws fully extended. Even if Gilchrest hadn’t been bound there was no way he could have moved faster than De Mona. Just before her claws tore into his pocked flesh, De Mona found herself wrapped from fingertip to elbow in shadow.
“Enough,” Rogue said evenly, holding the shadow restraint in place like a horse’s reins. “He’s worth more to us alive than dead, so why don’t you cool it, or would you rather have to worry about every goblin within a hundred miles gunning for a piece of your hide?”
De Mona bared her fangs. “I can handle myself.”
“That remains to be seen,” Rogue told her. “You and Gabriel handled yourselves like real troopers earlier, but this is a whole different fight. No more limping dead men. They’re gonna bring out the heavy guns.”
“And they’ll get dealt with too,” she challenged.
Rogue shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know if you noticed it or not, girlie, but we’re in the shit here. This ain’t about egos anymore, it’s about survival and you can bet as sure as my ass is black that we’re all on the short list of who Titus wants whacked. You’re free to play the tough-ass loner if you want, but I’m thinking there’s strength in numbers. We’ve gotta stick together if any of us plans to make it out of this alive.”
“I agree.” Lydia spoke up. She stroked Fin’s head affectionately with one hand and ran her thumb over the runes on her spear with the other. Her long black hair was mussed and her face dark. “We are all that’s left of the Great House and we must uphold what it stood for. Whether we are five hundred or five we must keep the darkness at bay.” Lydia and Fin were both orphans who were taken in by the order so the fall of the Great House hit them harder than the others.
Jackson stared at Lydia quizzically. Even though she was blind she still displayed more courage than most when it came to tackling the dark forces. The gesture brought a smirk to his face. “Though I feel like a fool for saying so, I’m with the young lady. Look, each of us has been fighting his or her own battle, be it with the dark forces or our own souls”—he glanced at De Mona when he said this— “the point is that going at it solo ain’t working, so maybe it’s time we clique up and put an end to this.”
Gilchrest scoffed. “Impossible to put an end to something older than you or I. This war go since first blood shed in Eden. This war go on forever, or until goblins rule all.”
“Now that’s a world I could do without,” Asha said.
“Then we’re all agreed. We regroup and put a plan together to get our people back,” Rogue said.
Gilchrest laughed. It sounded like a sick wheezing when it belched from his chest. “Man-thing, no need plan for death, only hold on to prince and it come find you soon enough.”
“Goddess, why don’t you shut up already?” Asha waved her hand and an invisible strap clamped over Gilchrest’s mouth.
“Plan? Why do we need a plan when we’ve got this?” Gabriel pulled up his sleeve and exposed the pulsing tattoo. “If this thing is so powerful, why don’t we just use it to find my grandfather and then go get him?”
“Didn’t we just establish the fact that we don’t wanna die?” Asha asked sarcastically.
Jackson placed a hand on Gabriel’s forearm. “Dawg, I know you’re hot right now, but we need a game plan before we go off into the Iron Mountains.”
Gabriel slapped his hand away and manifested the trident. “I’ve got a game plan right here.”
“Cool it with that thing before you give away our position,” Rogue warned. Gabriel gave him a defiant look, but did as he was told. “Gabriel, you know no one wants to help you get Redfeather back more than me, but I have to agree with Jackson on this one. Even on holy ground we barely made it out with our skins, so charging into the bowels of Midland is suicide at best.”
“What’s Midland?” Asha asked curiously.
“The last place of true magic,” Fin murmured and went back to staring blankly at the blacked-out window from Lydia’s lap. Ever since Angelo had forced the spark into him he had been drifting in and out.
Seeing the confused expressions on their faces through the rearview mirror, Morgan chose to explain. “Keep in mind that what I am about to tell you is supposed to be a myth,” he stroked his thick red beard, “But in light of some of the things my brothers and I have come across I have to believe the truth isn’t too far off. Centuries ago, when magical things walked the earth, this was all Midland. When science forced the magic out, Midland began to die. To protect itself the land separated from this plane and retreated to a realm between the worlds of men and demons, where magic still flourishes. But like a tree, Midland’s roots are still in this world. When the land separated, it caused small tears, called rips, in the fabric of the realities. These rips act as access points between
this world and the forgotten.”
“So you mean to say that both worlds occupy the same place, but on different levels?” De Mona asked. Her father had spoken of Midland, but he’d always made it seem like it no longer existed.
“In a way,” Morgan confirmed. “The earth is one world of many, but it has different layers.”
“Kinda like those Grams biscuits at the supermarket.” Jackson offered.
Morgan shook his head. “Not quite, but my leather-clad friend isn’t far off with his assessment. Midland is everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time. It hovers between the two planes like a layer of protective skin keeping the realms of science and magic from colliding. When I was a boy my father used to tell me tales of great magicians who could walk between both worlds as simply as walking through a door, but the days of magic that potent have long passed. The most conventional way to cross into Midland now is through the rips.”
“So why don’t we just roll up to one of these rips and cross into Midland?” De Mona asked.
“If only it were that simple,” Morgan said. “With the passing of time and the evolution of technology there are fewer and fewer rips. The only ones that have withstood the changing of the world are those that lead to the last kingdoms of Midland, and even those are fraught with danger unless you are a member of that particular court. One such rip is the gateway to the Iron Mountains.”
“Then why don’t we have him lead us to the rip to find my grandfather?” Gabriel suggested, nodding at Gilchrest. The goblin tried to mumble something that sounded less than friendly.
“The little one would surely be helpful in gaining access to the Iron Mountains, but it’s navigating the bloody place and the things that dwell there that chills my blood,” Morgan said.
“What if we went in through one of the other pockets?” Rogue suggested.
“What are you getting at, Rogue?” Lydia asked. Until then she had just been listening and trying to comfort Finnious.
“We need to get to the Iron Mountains, but we may not have to use that pocket to cross into Midland. I’ve got a buddy I can reach out to who owes me a favor.”
Asha tossed him her cell phone. “Be my guest.” To her surprise, Rogue wrapped her phone in shadow and crushed it. “Hey! Do you know how much I paid for that thing?”
“It’s a small price to pay for your life. Titus has everybody from street dealers to politicians on his payroll. If somebody’s tracking the cell phone signal, using it is like painting a bull’s-eye on your forehead,” he said letting the phone’s remains fall to the floor. “Besides, the person I plan to contact won’t talk over the phone and I can’t reach him until after sundown.”
“Rogue, I know you ain’t about to call in no vamps for help,” Jackson said in disgust. He had a special hatred for vampires because of what they’d done to him.
Rogue smiled at him. “Vampires aren’t the only things that go bump in the night.”
Asha sucked her teeth. “You guys kill me with all this talk about the Iron Mountains as if they’re some great house of horrors. How freaking bad could it be?”
CHAPTER TWO
“Mercy, please just let me die!” The scream echoed off the cavern walls and traveled throughout the Iron Mountains for all to hear, not that anyone cared. In the Iron Mountains the goblins ruled, and their only law was pain. The Iron Mountains had been around since the days before magic and men. It had once been a cornerstone of Midland, but now it was just a vast network of tunnels beneath the Bronx Zoo, hovering between the here and there like the rest of Midland.
“What do you mean, eat us? That’s downright gross!” Lucy said in disgust.
Redfeather shook his head. “For a witch you know very little about the supernatural.”
“And who said I was a witch?” Lucy stared at the old man defiantly with her knuckles resting on her hips. There was something about his aquiline features that tugged a cord of familiarity in her, but Lucy couldn’t place him.
“When you’ve been dealing with the unexplained for as long as I have, you tend to pick up on certain things. Besides, I saw you trying to work a spell on the bars.”
Lucy tried to call her magic again but couldn’t muster so much as a spark. “For all the good it did. What the hell are these things made of? Kryptonite?”
“They are made from pure iron and enchanted by dark magic.” Redfeather knelt and inspected the runes on the bars. “I’ve read about them, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen one of these cages. Are you a refugee of Sanctuary?” Redfeather asked, wondering how many besides her had escaped the bloodbath and hoping his grandson was in that number.
“Hardly. I was supposed to assist with a healing and ended up getting caught up in this mess,” she explained while conducting her own investigation of the bars.
Lucy’s spell-casting abilities may have been hampered by the cage, but her senses were still intact. The markings on the bars were of no language she could read, but she recognized the distinct wards as belonging to the sorcerers, who were the long-time enemies of the witches and warlocks. Once they had been servants to the sorcerers, but a mystic holy war had earned them their independence. Still, the old hostilities lingered, and these bars were proof that the sorcerers had now thrown in their lot with the savage goblins, which did nothing to assuage Lucy’s prejudices.
“The sorcerers enchanted those bars with holding witches in mind,” Redfeather said, confirming her thoughts. “No spell may leave that cage. I’m afraid there’s nothing that your young mind can conjure that will counteract such an old magic.”
“Then you underestimate me.” Lucy stepped back from the bars and focused. The air around her began to crackle faintly and even some of the hay beneath her feet stirred. “Tiki, be my strength!” No sooner had the command left Lucy’s lips than the same power she expelled threatened to crush her body. Lucy collapsed on the dirty floor of the cage, clutching her tender ribs. She was in intense pain but was spared the sweet release of unconsciousness.
Redfeather waited until the young witch had caught her breath before speaking. “As I told you: no spell shall leave this cage, and summoning your familiar counts as a spell.” He knelt, reaching between the bars to see if she was okay, which caused Lucy to recoil. “I was just trying to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m just peachy.” She staggered to her feet, still feeling the effects of the feedback. She studied Redfeather for a moment. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite place, as if there was something hiding under the surface. “What are you hiding?”
“Excuse me?”
Lucy moved closer to the bars. “It’s not a trick question. You look like a mortal, but there’s something about your aura that’s not quite right. You’re too weak to be a warlock or sorcerer and you’re breathing, so that rules out your being a vampire, yet your cage is enchanted too. I’m guessing you’re some sort of magician, right?”
Redfeather chuckled. “Afraid not, child, though at this point I wish I were. Maybe if I had some sort of magical ability I could’ve done something more than get myself captured when they invaded. There was so much I could’ve done to prevent this, but I fear I will never have the chance.”
“So you know what’s going on?” Lucy asked.
Redfeather hesitated, then nodded. “I’m afraid I helped cause it.” He went on to give her the short version of his tale.
Lucy’s eyes flashed rage. “You called those things to this side of the dimensional plane?”
“Not me. My grandson and the thing that is trying to lay claim to his immortal soul, the Nimrod.”
Without Redfeather having to elaborate, the pieces began falling into place. Lucy’s supernatural history was rusty at best, but she knew enough to recognize the name of what the elders referred to as the Trident of Heaven. As it was told among the covens, the Nimrod was one of the greatest pieces of magic ever entrusted to the mortal realm. She now understood what the disturbance in the balance of magic had bee
n, but she was still clueless as to what to do about it.
“So where are your grandson and this Nimrod now?” Lucy asked.
Redfeather shrugged. “I wish I could say. We were attempting to find him when the goblins stormed Sanctuary.” Redfeather closed his eyes as if he were living the battle again. “So many lives were lost.”
Lucy thought of Sulin and how she had been viciously killed by the goblins. “We can’t avenge our friends if we end up dead too. We’ve got to find a way to get outta here.”
“Agreed, but I can’t say that I have a clue how. I’m just an old man and your powers have been rendered useless by the bars.”
Lucy rummaged around through her wild hair and produced a hairpin. “Even without my magic I’m never without my resources.” Lucy knelt near the bars and began working on the lock. Even though her prison was enchanted, it was still just an old zoo cage on the surface. After nearly ten minutes of feverishly working at the lock, she finally heard the telltale clicks of progress. Just as she was about to try the cage door she heard heavy footfalls in the corridor.
“Someone’s coming,” Redfeather whispered.
“No shit.” Lucy retreated to the corner of the cage and hugged her knees to her chest as if she were still traumatized by her plight.
A goblin that was almost skeletal in appearance came through the archway followed by a dwarf. He was a short, plump man with stringy brown hair and a clean-shaven face. He wasn’t quite what Lucy had expected, since she had heard that all male dwarves wore beards as a sign of honor and respect. The little man kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he pushed a rickety cart. On the cart were two bowls full of something that Lucy sincerely hoped they didn’t expect her to eat.