A single tear rolled down Holt’s cheek. Despite the transformation, the Vampyr leaned his face into the goddess’s hand. Slowly Holt’s skin cracked and lost its black gloss. The hawkish nose and pointed teeth began to recede. A human visage began taking shape.
“Ekoli?” Holt said, raspy and garbled.
“Aye. Complete the transformation. Embrace your human form.”
The words were more a croak. “It hurts.”
Smiling, the goddess outlined Holt’s jawbone. “And I shall stay with you through the pain, as you did for me.”
Madame Hesper watched as her son emerged from the demonic cocoon he had been held prisoner in. She nearly sobbed for joy but did not want to disturb the metamorphosis. Even though Ekoli was no longer a deity, Amanda vowed to build the woman a shrine. Holt reached out a human hand to her.
“Mother. I cannot say how sorry I am.”
“Do not waste another word,” she said as she embraced her son. Tears now flowed freely from them both. Ekoli stumbled back a bit and looked queasy. Holt turned and caught the goddess. “How are we traveling, Mother?”
“We have a litter to carry both of you across the Plains to the Oracle.”
“The Oracle?” Holt asked as they walked from the room.
Madame Hesper sighed. “It is a long story. I will tell you along the way. For now I wish to leave before I must endure Emerald a second more.”
“I thought we were bonding, witch.” The Faery flew up between mother and son. “The Vampyr has been subdued. It thought it not possible. Your family is certainly resilient.”
Madame Hesper did not bother to respond. Emerald was always baiting, looking for a dispute. It was one of the few pleasures the Faery allowed herself, it seemed. Although Amanda could find fault with the Guardian’s social etiquette, she could not deny the Faery was efficient.
As promised a large litter stood ready in the Fold’s anti-chamber. It was covered in thick black wool and tightly secured so that not even the fiercest wind could force open the fabric. It would not do to have sunlight stream in upon her son.
“The supplies are loaded?”
“To your specifications,” the Faery replied. A hint of superiority tainted her tone.
“Holt? Will you load the goddess?”
Her son looked around. There were no horses or livestock to pull the litter. “How will we be conveyed?”
Emerald’s dress flashed a bright blue with subtle shades of green. “I am not yet exiled from my home. The Guardian has her ways.”
Madame Hesper opened her mouth to question the Faery further, but Emerald too much liked the mystery of it all. “You shall see in a moment.”
Once Ekoli and Holt were loaded into the interior, Madame Hesper took her seat upon the front bench. Where there would normally be reins and the brake were only bells and a gong. What was the Faery up to? Emerald nodded and the rest of the Faeries grabbed the litter and raised it slightly off the ground. Their wings beat furiously, and the strain was apparent. Those gossamer wings could not tow them across the Plains. Slowly they moved forward, and the Fold’s entrance opened, revealing the great, barren snowfields. Once out in the bitter wind, the Faeries lowered the litter again.
Emerald sent her workers back inside and waved the litter off. “To go forward, jingle the bells. The faster the tune, the more speedy your passage, but be warned, the ride might get rough. To stop, use the gong.”
“What are you —”
The Faery did not deign to answer. Instead she flew back into the portal and closed it immediately behind her. Madame Hesper rubbed her hands against the cold that was already setting in.
Holt opened the cloth a slit, protecting himself against the waning sunlight. “Does she rely on your magic?”
“I hope not,” Madame Hesper replied. She had great reserves but they were better suited to bursts of activity or manipulating subtle changes, not prolonged endurance. Amanda did not think she could sustain their journey all the way across the Plains.
Ekoli’s voice drifted from inside the litter. “Just make some music and enjoy the ride.”
Holt shrugged and Madame Hesper took the small chain of bells and began jingling them. At first the sound was nothing more than annoying, but soon she picked up the rhythm and produced a pleasing melody. Suddenly the snow swirled around their wheels and the surface melted a bit. They sank a bit in the now soft snow, but almost immediately they were back on level ground. The surface swam with figures sliding in and out amongst the snowflakes. Tiny faces glittered briefly then vanished.
The litter began to move forward, almost as if the ground itself propelled it. In front of them, the snow coalesced and merged into a slick surface. Once the wheels came into contact with the glistening surface, it skated forward. Music matching her own flowed from the altered snow.
“Powder Fays...” Holt whispered in awe.
Madame Hesper seconded his amazement. Even she had thought the creatures a legend. A myth to brighten the dark night of children. But here they were, gleefully drawing the litter along the Plains. Joyful music drew them like a babe to sweets. Their only demand was a cheerful beat.
Watching the landscape race by, Amanda remembered to say a prayer to the Old Gods. It had been too long since she had paid them homage. Too long had gone by when she was witness to their power. Or perhaps, more importantly, to their sense of playfulness. She might trust a god who created ones such as these.
*****
CHAPTER 28
Traven’s stomach churned and knotted. It was as if someone had wrung their hands inside his abdomen. Each step they took brought more hope they found an exit. Even his human nose could detect the scent of sweet air. Glacial rode with her back straighten and a faint smile upon her lips.
But not even Pale’s excited pace could keep Traven from fretting. There would be no easy escape for him. His greatest hope was for him to launch Pale and Glacial out of the Catacombs before he succumbed.
A bark echoed off the walls. In his mind, Traven could see what the wolf experienced. Once around this bend, the wind blew in great gusts, blasting Pale with its strength. Traven urged Lauger on, but not nearly as quickly as he might have. He was hesitant to turn this corner. His death could come at any moment.
“Princess, no matter what happens, you must strike for the exit. Lauger will carry you to safety.”
Not knowing his internal struggle, Glacial nodded and answered with a light tone. “I trust you, human. We will meet on the other side.”
Traven nearly choked. They might meet on another side, but it was most likely across the Veil.
Pale barked again, anxious for the other to join him. Traven could no longer drag his feet. The moment was at hand.
Taking a deep breath, he rounded the corner. To his surprise nothing untoward happened. No demons leapt out at him. No fire-breathing dragon singed him. But they were not out yet.
Joining the wolf, they came around the last bend together.
All of them stumbled to a halt. What stood before them was beyond anything they could have imagined. A fleshy web covered their escape route. In an alternating rhythm, the thing would dilate and open and closed, creating the gusts of wind. For a brief moment, at the apex of its expansion you could see the snowy mountains beyond the Catacombs. Its veins were so large and thick that one could make out the green blood that flowed through the creature. A strange sucking noise accompanied each cycle of the puckered doorway.
The wolf queried Traven. Absently, held in the shock of finally seeing the monster that would rob him of his life, Traven spoke aloud the name of the gateway. “The Gullet.”
Pale cocked his head, probing further into Traven’s mind. The wolf did not know of this threat. How were they to best it? Traven had no answer, and he vigorously shielded his true concerns from Pale. If the White Wolf knew of Traven’s danger, Pale would never leave the Catacombs without him. Traven would not have the wolf die in a vain attempt to save the Hero. If The Man was to d
ie here today, he wanted to take no others with him.
“Princess, we will time the Gullet. On my mark, Lauger and you will charge through. On the next cycle, Pale will follow.”
“What of you?”
Traven tried to hide his lie. “On the next.”
“Could Lauger not carry us both?” Glacial asked, innocent of the death mark upon Traven’s brow.
“Nay. I do not wish to weigh him down.”
Luckily the Princess took him at his word and turned back to watch the Gullet. They took small steps forward until they could nearly touch the beast. The wind was frigid as it blasted through the living portal. But Traven would walk into a frozen hell itself if it meant he lived another few minutes.
“Prepare,” Traven said as he counted off the rhythm in his head.
Glacial braced and leaned forward, her hands loose of the reins but buried in Lauger’s mane.
“Forward!” Traven yelled. The princess even gave the horse a bit of heel to urge him on. Lauger surged forward despite the nasty hiss and smell the creature exuded. The horse was halfway through the portal when arms lashed out at them. A thick, multi-headed tentacle knocked Glacial from her seat. Lauger could not change course in time and vaulted through the opening, clearing it in a single leap.
Traven charged forward, sword drawn, and began hacking at the thick arm that held the Princess. The portal had clamped down, blocking the outside world. He had no idea his horse’s fate. Smaller tentacles parted from the larger trunk and began attaching their suction cups to Glacial’s body. Her screams of panic rang off the hallway. Pale jumped and snapped but for each tentacle they eliminated, other finer filaments took hold.
A single head was still alive, and it tried to gnaw on the Princess’s arm. Traven pulled the knife from his boot and slit the thing’s throat. The head gurgled for a moment then lolled to the side. Glacial’s mouth opened for a scream, but no sound came out. Her voice was frozen with horror. Chopping at the remaining limbs, Traven finally freed the princess from her unnatural restraints.
The princess sobbed in his arms, clutching her bleeding arm. Traven backed them away from the beast. Bristling from the portal were five arms, each with its own set of five appendages, each with five heads. The hideous faces bobbed and weaved on their stalks, hissing their anger. Pale suggested they find another passage out of the Catacombs, but Traven immediately refused.
There was no other way out. The wolf meant to argue, but the Hero told Pale to turn around and look behind them. Traven did not need to glance back. He knew what had happened. The tunnels behind them were closed off, slowly pushing them forward. Soon there would be crushed up against the Gullet, with nowhere to run.
“We must fight our way through,” Traven said, hoping he sounded far more confident than he felt.
“How?” Glacial asked, her voice small and pained.
What he would have given to have a pinch of the magic powder the alchemist used to free gold from its vein. Light a bit of that and throw it into the Gullet, and their problems would be solved. Pale caught the gist of the Hero’s idea and barked for Traven to follow. The wolf sent him his full senses.
Awash in Pale’s sights and smells, Traven nearly tripped. The wolf put his nose to the ground and caught the scent of a bitter aroma. Following it to its source, Pale barked at a rock embedded in the granite.
Running his fingers over the surface and sniffing the dust that came off, Traven confirmed the find. It was the raw stone from which the explosive powder was derived. But this rock was all but useless to them. It took weeks and great skill to refine the dust, and even more expertise to use the mixture. Pale snorted. Traven should have relayed the difficulty before they bothered to search for the ore.
Apologizing, Traven began trying to unwedge the stone from its berth. He did not know why, but something about the rock held his interest.
There was a tale Granny used to tell. Not of The Man Who Did Not Know, but of the Hanged Man. In that yarn the Hero found a chunk of stone, which once ignited, would burn a slow hole through whatever it touched. No grand explosion. No great fireball, but destructive nonetheless. The Hanged Man was a bit more knowledgeable metallurgist than himself, but what could it hurt?
“Glacial, we need your help!”
The princess stumbled over, blood covering her blue silk. Traven immediately regretted calling her over. She was in no shape to dig.
“Watch our backs.”
Glacial nodded solemnly and leaned into the wall to support herself. Pale was suspicious of the results Traven hopped from the rock but began pawing around the edge of the slab. The stone was deeply lodged, but ultimately it gave way to their efforts.
“Glacial, get the torch.”
Traven applied the fire to stone, but it did not even spark. He tried again and again as the walls began contracting down around them. Pale urged Traven to give up and turn to fight, but the Hero refused. He knew the outcome if they relied on steel alone.
The Gullet would make a nice meal of them all.
Even if they somehow killed the Gullet, even in death the portal would not open. Instead it would seal over forever, trapping them in the Catacombs for whatever short life they had left.
Finally he took the hilt of his sword and pounded on the stone, shattering it in half. Within the outer shell sat a softer core. Once the fire was put to these smaller rocks, they burned with a weak flame.
Using his gloved hand, Traven picked up the first rock and flung it towards the portal. One of the heads intercepted the projectile and swallowed the fiery stone. Inhuman screams filled the small chamber, and all the heads backed away from the center, flailing and writhing in pain. Taking advantage of the opening, Traven chucked the last bit of flaming rock to the very center of the portal, where it landed, the flesh contracted and undulated. The rock did not dislodge, however, only burning deeper into the portal.
“Now we fight,” Traven said, his sword raised. Even if he died, he might still guarantee his companions’ escape. Pale and the Hero charged together, swords and fangs flashing in the torchlight.
***
Crystalia felt as if every part of her body were in rebellion. It no longer wanted this journey. There were muscles that ached with such intensity that she felt she might swoon. Sleep or a coma would be a far sight better than the pain she was in right now. But that would get her no closer to Traven. She knew once she set eyes upon the Hero, all of her aches and pains would vanish.
Their love would heal her.
Nutmeg lost her footing for a moment and threw Miss Emmert into Crystalia’s back. Fighting for balance, Crystalia’s legs screamed in complaint. The ride had gotten much harder once they had started scaling the rocky terrain of the last mountain. Miss Emmert thought the Gullet was just beyond these peaks.
From the look on Ornery’s face, as he ran beside them, Crystalia was not the only one eager for their flight to be over. The boy was obviously taxed well beyond his limit, but he ran anyway.
Crystalia did not think that physical pain alone brought the deep frown to his face. Miss Emmert, Nutmeg, and he had not weathered the blow of Cinnamon’s death well.
Worse, they had to leave the horse’s body behind without a proper burial. Cinnamon was not Wheatland but even Crystalia felt pained by the loss. The horse’s playful manner had ingratiated Cinnamon to Crystalia within the short span of time they had known each other. Given a few more days, Crystalia might have loved the horse as the others had. But that was not to be. Cinnamon was buried in snow on the other side of the Pass.
Shivering, Crystalia pulled her cloak more tightly around her neck. Even the mere flitting thought of the Caitliff’s domain scared her.
Granted, she had only lost her panties, but something deeper had been disturbed by the creature. She did not want to dwell at all on recent events. Miss Emmert had made the most ludicrous threat. Why had the woman gone and done that? The woman had given her mind a puzzle to fret about, bringing her thoughts circling bac
k to the Caitliff’s throne room. Exactly what she never wished to imagine again.
“How far?” Ornery asked, panting through his mouth.
“Shh. Did you hear that?” Miss Emmert asked.
Crystalia tensed so badly, her muscles spasmed in her neck. The last time Sele had pronounced those words, an avalanche had almost claimed her life. Ears perked, Ornery swiveled his head.
“The wind is so fierce...” Ornery’s voice trailed off as he cocked his head. Crystalia could hear the strange tones carried on the wind. Miss Emmert slowed their pace as the sound of groaning echoed off the mountainside. The noise was not of human origin. Carefully Nutmeg picked her way through the shattered rocks. The going was treacherous, and each of them was tensed to the extreme. Miss Emmert was not one to rush into danger.
Human shouts rose from the distance. Crystalia gave Nutmeg a kick. She would know that voice anywhere. “Traven!”
Miss Emmert let up on reins giving Nutmeg her head. The horse picked up speed a bit but was forced to go carefully on the slick outcroppings. Ornery scrambled ahead, using his smaller size to his advantage. As they crested the rocky mound, Crystalia pointed into the distance. The moonlight illuminated a horse striking at a bizarre fleshy barrier.
“Lauger! The Hero’s mount!”
“At least one of them escaped already,” Miss Emmert said, her tone flat. Crystalia wished the woman were more optimistic. Traven had to survive. Even if it meant bringing down the Fold. And she was certain he was alive. The horse would not be fighting so valiantly if his master were not still alive.
Ornery was the first to reach the grotesque orifice. The boy startled Traven’s horse, and the dark stallion turned on Ornery.
“Lauger, No!” Crystalia screamed. The horse flattened his ears and wheeled around to watch Nutmeg charge forward. Lauger’s eyes were dilated, and his breath blew white and hot from his nostrils. Crystalia threw herself from the Centaur and landed on her shoulder. Despite the pain, she rolled up and slowly walked towards the warhorse.
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