The Realm of the Drells

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The Realm of the Drells Page 23

by Kenneth Zeigler


  “Typical placer deposit,” noted Marci. “Wish I knew what made those crystals glow.”

  “Fairy dust,” said Camron.

  “The power of da drells,” said Lemnock, breaking his long silence. “Tis said that they endowed the crystals with life, making them glow.”

  “Like I said, fairy dust,” repeated Camron.

  Leslie took Camron’s hand. She smiled slightly.

  Ahead the cavern split into two passageways. The one on the left was strikingly bright, far more so than the other. It was almost like daylight. The group entered an enormous cavern room filled with huge glowing crystals, most of them located some distance above the cavern floor. There were picks, sledgehammers, metal ladders, and scaffolding scattered about the two-hundred-foot-wide hundred-foot-high cavern room. As Lukor had supposed, there was a large pile of high quality crystals setting near the middle of the cavern room, more than enough to meet their needs.

  The group set about the task of gathering up the best crystals and bagging them up for the trip back. Lemnock stood by the entrance to the cavern keeping an eye out for anything that might threaten them, yet nothing met his eyes. Within the space of an hour they were packed up and ready for the return trip.

  “This journey has gone better than I’d dared to hope,” said Lukor. “It will be a difficult journey, but it is vital that we make it back to the small cavern we rested in earlier. If we make it that far I believe that we will be nearly home. The caverns beyond are rarely frequented by the beasts.”

  “Back to a life of hard labor,” mumbled Camron.

  “Better than dying out here,” replied Debbie.

  “Captain, there’s motion out there,” yelled Lemnock.

  His words were interrupted by a terrible howl. It all happened so very quickly. Lemnock stumbled to the side as three huge ciudaches took up positions at the entrance to the cavern.

  The right claw of one of the beasts swept toward Lemnock as it went in for the kill. Yet the dazed but swift-footed wolver managed to roll to the side.

  Lukor drew his spear and hurled it toward the ciudache that even now was closing in on Lemnock. The long metal spear flew with a true ballistic form hitting the beast in one of its eyes.

  The ciudache spun in Lukor’s direction, even as Lemnock drove his own spear deep into the beast’s right side. Lemnock managed to withdraw just in time to avoid its swift claws. He circled back toward the others even as the beasts tightened their ranks so as to make the escape of their prey impossible.

  Debbie looked in horror at the terrible creatures facing them, then she turned to Lukor. “Is there anywhere we can retreat to?”

  “Not here,” said Lukor. “Our only option is to fight.”

  “Some option,” said Leslie. “We’re royally screwed.”

  “Draw your weapons and stay with me,” said Lukor backing away from the beasts.

  They backed away even as the beasts began to advance.

  “Stay behind us, Gwen,” said Marci.

  “No,” said Gwen, raising her sword. “I’ll fight too.”

  Debbie slowly backed away. She had spoken so boldly of salvation. Perhaps it would only be their souls that survived. No, she couldn’t think that way. She had to believe that they would emerge victorious somehow.

  Camron took up a defensive position by Leslie in an apparent attempt to try and protect her.

  By now Lemnock had rejoined the group. He and Lukor had done some damage to that ciudache alright. Its dark yellow blood was forming an ever larger pool on the cavern floor beneath it. Given time it might bleed to death. Still they had not done enough damage to put it out of action. These things fought to the death.

  What happened next occurred so quickly that Debbie wasn’t even sure of exactly what had happened. The ciudaches were rapidly encroaching upon them when the one furthest to the left suddenly turned as if its attention had been captured by something else beyond the seven insignificant creatures before it.

  There was a flash of light, then another. It was followed by an eruption of dark yellow blood as the creature fell toward the right. Two of its right legs had literally been cut out from under it.

  The others responded by turning to behold their companion being literally hacked to pieces. For but a second Debbie beheld a flying form emerge from the darkness of the cavern beyond only to vanish once more into the shadowy realm.

  A fraction of a second later the head of the ciudache at the center literally parted company with its neck amidst a pulsing flood of blood. The remaining beast reared up on its hind legs as if trying to escape the swift death that had been visited upon its companions.

  Debbie never did see how it met its end. All she knew was that after the shower of blood subsided it lay beside its lifeless compatriots. There was a moment of involuntary muscular contractions then just a growing pool of blood.

  The seven sojourners stood there in amazement. It had all happened so very quickly. These creatures were the masters of this subterranean realm. What had dispatched them so swiftly?

  Then they came. Two black winged beings swooped in from the darkness, landing upon the cavern floor about twenty feet in front of the creatures that had sought to end the traveler’s lives. They were tall handsome beings, dressed in black from head to toe. The feathery crow-like wings sprouting from their shoulders retracted even as they sheathed their long swords covered with steaming blood. They walked boldly toward Debbie and the rest.

  “Peace be with you Debbie Langmuir, peace be with you all,” said the bearded being on the left.”

  “It was all so easy,” noted the other who walked by his side. “Just like old times.”

  “Angels,” whispered Gwen, who could not take her eyes from these wondrous beings. “They’re angels, Marci.”

  “I thought angels dressed in white,” said Marci.

  “I take it that we aren’t what you were expecting,” said the one on the right.

  “I don’t care if you’re angels or devils,” said Camron, “I’m just glad that you arrived when you did.”

  “I think you’re wonderful,” replied Gwen, excitedly. “You’re everything I prayed for. You’re like heroic dark knights out of a storybook.”

  Both of the beings smiled at that comment. It greatly relieved the tension of the moment.

  “Thank you fair young maiden,” said the one on the right in oh so serious a tone of voice.

  “I am Abaddon,” said the one on the left. “I am also known as the destroyer.”

  “I can see why,” replied Cameron, “you sure made a mess of those monsters.”

  Abaddon nodded.

  “And I am Lenar, at your service,” announced the other, “the rescuer of fair young maidens.”

  That comment made Gwen’s smile grow even wider.

  “Then you’re the one who rescued Dr. Wilson,” said Debbie.

  Abaddon seemed surprised. “You’ve talked with Dr. Wilson recently?”

  “The day before yesterday,” replied Debbie. “I guess my soul keeps drifting back and forth between here and there.”

  “I was unaware of this second meeting,” interjected Abaddon.

  “And you’ve come to our rescue before,” deduced Debbie. “The beast we came upon on our first trip back from the underground river, the one that had been killed, it was you that killed it, wasn’t it?”

  Abaddon nodded.

  “You’re like a guardian angel,” said Gwen, her excitement growing. You’re the answer to our prayers.”

  “Guardian angel?” Repeated Abaddon. “I suppose that term might describe us, considering the circumstances. That is, in part, our mission.”

  “What is the rest of it,” asked Lukor, who still held his sword at the ready.

  “Our mission is threefold,” continued Abaddon. First we shall see to it that you arrive safely at your home. Second, we will prepare you for your coming conflict with the drells.”

  “Conflict with the drells!” exclaimed Lukor. “That is t
he last thing we want.”

  Abaddon nodded. “It may indeed be the last thing you want but it is the foremost thing you need. Consider this; your alternative would be to die out here rather than return to your home. That is after all why the drells sent you here; to die. I suspect that you are already aware of that fact. When you return home safely they will still desire your death. They will but need to come up with another way to accomplish it. That would defeat the first objective of our mission. That, of course, we cannot allow.”

  “And the third part of your mission?” asked Marci.

  “The third aspect of our mission is to bring to an end the reign of the drells,” said Abaddon. “They are an abomination. Their reign must end.”

  “After seeing what just two of you can do I can only imagine what an entire army of your kind is capable of,” noted Lemnock.

  “And just how many of your kind have been sent on this mission?” asked Lukor.

  “Those you see before you,” replied Abaddon.

  “Two?” interjected Lukor. “The two of you are going to defeat the drells?”

  “No,” replied Abaddon. “That task will fall largely to you. We will help, of course, there are those on Earth who will help you as well. You are already aware of them, and more will join them, but it is you who will liberate your people. Freedom earned is far more precious than freedom given.”

  “My grandfather’s generation tried to rise up against the drells but failed,” objected Lukor.

  “They failed because they gave up short of their goal,” said Abaddon. “They did not realize just how close to victory they truly were. The power of the drells was nearly exhausted when they capitulated. Had they pushed on they would have emerged victorious and we would not be having this conversation right now. It has fallen to your generation to succeed where they failed, but you must want to do it. You must be prepared to sacrifice, to fight for the prize you have coveted for so long.”

  “Yer asking a lot of us,” said Lukor.

  “I am,” confirmed Abaddon. “You must decide if you are willing to move against your oppressors. It is your only chance at life and your peoples’ only chance at freedom. You know that this is true.”

  “How would we even begin to move against the drells?” asked Lukor.

  “First you will need to get rid of that attitude,” interjected Lenar, a trace of anger in his voice. “In a realm even more dismal and hopeless than this I am creating a fighting force that will one day overthrow a reigning power even more potent than the drells. I have taken time from that struggle to assist you. Our patience is long but it is not endless. Stop telling yourself that it cannot be done and start doing it. We will guide you, help you, but we cannot do it for you, we are but two, the task will require many, both wulvers and humans. You are the closest thing to a leader to your people. You are the only one who can make this thing happen, you and Debbie. The next step is yours. We cannot make it for you.”

  Debbie turned to Lukor. “You were looking for a sign. If this isn’t a sign, then I’d like to know what is. Kadra is depending on you.”

  “Don’t presume to lecture me on my responsibilities,” said Lukor. “I know full well what is at stake.” He took a step forward. “I must fight against the drells. I do so for Kadra and my people, for our survival. Who is with me?”

  “I for one am fed up with the drells,” announced Lemnock, stepping forward. “I am ready for the revolution. I’ll even fight at the side of the humans to win our freedom. I will do it gladly. I will follow you captain. Just say the word. I’ll fight for you.”

  “As will I,” proclaimed Marci, taking a place at Lemnock’s side. “God only knows that Lemnock and I have had our differences in the past, but I’m willing to put that all aside. I’ll stand beside him in this.”

  Lemnock looked toward Marci. All were surprised when he extended his hand to her and she accepted it. Debbie never imagined seeing that. It was her turn.

  “Count me in too,” said Debbie. “I’m just a slave but I’m ready to stand against the drells,”

  “That I expected,” said Abaddon. “However, you are much more than a slave. I hope that the coming days will reveal that to you and to the others.”

  “I’m just little, but I’ll help too,” proclaimed Gwen.

  “I will fight at your side,” vowed Camron. Then he looked to Leslie.

  Leslie looked back at Camron then around at the others. “Oh what the hell, I’m in.”

  Lukor looked about. He was impressed. “Very well, we fight. What would you have us do first, Abaddon?”

  “First we get you safely home,” said Abaddon. “We will plan our strategy along the way.”

  The group gathered their things and departed. To Debbie it seemed that the fear that had dominated their trip out was conspicuously absent now. They were, after all, under the protection of two watchful angels, who or what could come against them? Angels? These beings had made no such claims. Indeed, they seemed to be trying to avoid the issue. That fact had been a bit troubling. It was an issue that would need to be addressed but not right now. Debbie figured that she would know when.

  The group listened to the words of Abaddon and Lenar. They did indeed have a plan but it was incomplete. It required the experience of Lukor, the faith of Debbie, and the courage of Marci and Lemnock to make it work. They would have all four.

  Chapter 16

  It was past eleven as forty-seven-year-old Detective Tom Tomlinson walked across the grounds of the Bargo Carnival outside of Elko, Nevada. It was a sort of carnival combined with a circus, a world of thousands of flashing lights and brightly colored tents, distinctively different from any other carnival he had ever seen. The large crowds that had flocked around the carnival rides, concession stands, and other amusements had departed. Now the recorded enticements to visit the wonders of the world echoed through deserted walkways.

  He’d taken a leave of absence from his position at the Fresno Police Department nearly two months ago in search of the woman who had struck down his son. She had taken him down and gotten away with it. She hadn’t hit him with a car or a club or anything as obvious as that. No, she had struck him down with a magical spell. He hadn’t built up an exemplary career in law enforcement, made detective, by resorting to supernatural explanations, but there was no other explanation that made any sense.

  His son David had been an excellent student and the top man on the high school tennis team. He’d been so proud of him. He remembered only too well that night that everything changed. It was almost a year ago now. His son David had come home from this very carnival when it was set up just outside of Fresno. It wasn’t all that late, not even ten, but he’d spoken of feeling tired and a bit ill. He’d gone right to bed.

  Too much popcorn and cotton candy, perhaps one too many rounds on the tilt a whirl had been Tom’s assessment. Come the morning his son would be as good as new; but he wasn’t. That was the morning that he never woke up.

  They’d taken him to the emergency room by ambulance and then from one specialist to another. The final diagnosis had been a disease that he’d never even heard of; Hobart’s, a rare neurological affliction that affected exclusively young people in their teens, stealing their lives from them. None ever recovered, none ever returned to consciousness. It was a slow and lingering road to death. There was no known cause, no known treatment, no less a cure.

  All those around him saw his son’s condition as a random act of God, something he simply had to accept. So had he, for a time. Then he began to talk to his son’s friends, those that had gone with him to the carnival. David seemed to have first become ill after visiting the fortune tellers tent. That was something that they all agreed upon. He’d been fine up until then. His friend Kurt had gone with him into that tent. Kurt spoke of the strangeness of the place. It wasn’t just the surroundings, the paintings, the exotic incense, it went way beyond that. It was the way the place felt. It felt evil, like it was filled with ghosts. Yes, those were his ve
ry words. He spoke of a great crystal ball that had sat upon the fortune teller’s table. It seemed to be the heart of that evil place.

  He remembered the fortune teller’s words to David. She had spoken of a long journey to a dark and exotic place, a place where he would serve a higher purpose. She had spoken of it as if it was a great honor to journey there. It hadn’t sounded all that appealing to Kurt and he didn’t think David was all that wild about it either. After David’s fortune was foretold to him Kurt had declined to have the fortune teller take his hand even though he had already paid.

  Strangely, Kurt had died in a tragic auto accident just three months ago. It was a single car crash late at night on a dry road with good visibility. The conclusion of the investigators was that Kurt had fallen asleep at the wheel. It was just a tragic twist of fate. But something just didn’t feel right about it, not to Tom, though he couldn’t exactly explain why. Maybe, like Kurt, he was sensing the presence of ghosts where there were none.

  He became, as much as possible, an expert on Hobart’s Syndrome. He corresponded with other parents whose children had contracted the horrible affliction, eight to be exact. It was only then that he noticed the pattern. In three of the eight cases, the Bargo Carnival had been in town just before or at the time their child had fallen ill. Coincidence? It didn’t seem that way to him.

  That brought him back to the present. Just two days ago he had received a call from Dr. John Wilson of the Martin Neurological Institute in York, Pennsylvania. He spoke of a major breakthrough, perhaps even a cure.

  Tom remembered Wilson immediately. They had spoken at a conference on Hobart’s in Oakland about three months ago. From the start David’s case had interested Wilson. Wilson said he was a near perfect candidate for a treatment he was working on. But unfortunately David was now in the final stages of the affliction, too ill to be transported across country. The cure, if that is truly what it was, had come just a matter of days too late for him.

 

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