The Lore Series (Box Set): All 3 Books In One Volume

by Chad T. Douglas

  “Wasn’t the statue in Love’s notes?” Molly reminded him.

  “Yes, right here,” said Tom, taking his gaze from the statue and unfolding the page of verses. A sketch of To’ri and the escarpment accompanied the third verse. Tom read it quietly: “Here it is. ‘Apathy is a burden. Like hot lead it collects on the limbs and cools heavily in the mind. Idle, life sinks, immovable and wasted. The surrender—in the hours between this day and the next, the guilty will know only the suffocation of struggle, and the innocent will rise.’ Hmm.” Tom coughed, his mouth suddenly dry.

  “Let me see,” said Molly.

  One of Tom’s men shrugged his shoulders in discomfort. Geoffrey walked about anxiously as well, stretching his legs.

  “We need to hurry to the other end of the escarpment,” said Tom, folding the notes and rounding up everyone. A stiffness struck his arms and he shook them, clenching and relaxing his hands to fight the feeling. “There is something in the air. It petrifies anyone who tries to reach the mountain.”

  “Which way?” asked Ine.

  “Follow me.” Tom waved the group on, starting out along the escarpment, tearing off a piece of his left sleeve and wrapping it around his face up to the nose. “Cover your mouths, and do not take deep breaths!” he shouted so all would hear. “Ets! Roheh!” Commanding the Uyl Talisman on his right arm, Tom whipped up a wind to stir the air, hoping it would lessen the severity of the petrifying curse. The others took his advice and covered their mouths. Tom’s morale rose, thinking perhaps their preparation and caution would carry them the rest of the way.

  The immobilizing effect took the greatest toll on the two remaining crew and Geoffrey, all of whom dragged their feet as they traversed the escarpment. Ine and Leon kept up with Tom and Molly, which left Chera as the bridge between the front and rear of the group. Leon, who was close enough to assist Geoffrey, pretended not to notice his pains. Leon himself felt little of the evil air’s effects. When Chera, fighting against the stiffness in her body, waited for Geoffrey to catch up, Leon finally turned around.

  “Go on with Ine,” Leon told her.

  “How … much … farther?” Geoffrey wheezed.

  “Not far, but you’ll fall dead if you keep moving at this pace,” warned Leon. “Take my arm.”

  “No,” said Geoffrey plainly. Without looking at Leon, he hobbled along. His arms had taken on a grey color, and part of his face was already hardening.

  Leon assisted Geoffrey anyway. Geoffrey did not reject the help but neither did he thank Leon.

  “The other two, behind me …” Geoffrey began, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

  “They’re already gone,” Leon said before Geoffrey could finish.

  Intuition told Tom to look back just before reaching the far end of the escarpment. When he did, Molly, several paces behind him, had stopped to rest. Though it was a great risk to both of them, Tom made his way back to her, taking her by the hand and urging her to continue. Molly nodded, picking up her feet and taking another step. Swinging her legs like a pair of logs, she managed to overcome their weight, only the promise of relief driving her on.

  On the clear end of the escarpment, the mountain sloped easily for a short distance, where its peak leaned hard in one direction, pointing at the horizon. The travelers, now numbering only six, hiked the distance in a short time. Geoffrey, though nearly lithified while crossing the ridge, did not take long to catch up to Ine on the way to the summit.

  ****

  Beneath the cosmic gallery sometime between that day and the next, Thomas Crowe, compelled only by a dream and a promise, reached the summit of Nok dol Ghon. The bald peak flattened out at its apex. A warm breeze stole clouds of dust from the pebbly earth underfoot and cast it over the cliffs. The bottom of heaven met the lower world at this place. Sandy beaches of stars striped the horizon where sky and land touched. Mountains poked through the peach and apricot haze that filled the valleys between as far as the eye could see. A figure stood at the highest point of the summit, facing away from Tom and the others.

  “Is it you, Harlan?” came a voice. The man on the peak, his profile hardly visible as his head turned gently to the right, had spoken.

  “Harlan?” Tom repeated, dumbfounded and fearful.

  “No. No, it isn’t,” said the man, turning around slowly. His short beard caught the wind, long, dark and aging hair livening. As his face came into view, it eclipsed the sun on the horizon, and for a moment, Tom again saw visions of his deceased father. As they passed, and the spots in his vision cleared, Tom realized that the strange man on the peak was blind. Both his eyes had been put out by a slathering of molten gold that had cooled and hardened across his sockets, brow and nose. When the man stepped closer, Tom saw he was dressed in an unusual costume—an old pair of trousers belonging to a military uniform, along with an unbuttoned red coat that draped from his shoulders like curtains. All this was topped with alchemist’s robes, silky and flowing, layered on top of his coat.

  “Who are you?” asked Tom, his fingers releasing Brother’s sheath, for the man was not threatening in appearance or tone.

  “Just a man,” said the stranger. When he did, a jolt struck Tom’s chest, almost expecting Just to come out as John.

  “Your name?” asked Tom. “What is your name?”

  “I am the Alchemist,” was his answer.

  “Alecandre Love?” Molly called out, coming to stand next to Tom.

  “Yes, I was called that once,” replied the Alchemist, barely a trace of a smile on his lips. His expressions seemed agitated, yet slow.

  “Where is the stone?” Tom asked next. “And why did you think I was Harlan?” The longing for these answers twisted Tom’s stomach.

  The Alchemist, lowering his face, took a few steps to his right, then turned away to face the horizon again. By his sides his arms hung loosely, knobby hands relaxed as if asleep. “Harlan is dead, then,” he said after a moment. Tom said nothing in response, because the Alchemist had not posed it as a question. “You found the box. Is that why you are here? Do you know where you are?”

  “Nok dol Ghon?” Tom conjectured with a sigh, wanting answers, not questions.

  “No, no,” said the Alchemist, smiling and shaking his head. “Do you understand where you are?”

  Tom opened his mouth and shut it again, unsure what to say. When he looked at Molly, she looked back at him the same way. Neither of them understood the question.

  “The stone is right here. You stand on it as we speak,” explained the Alchemist, spreading his arms.

  “You mean buried?” Tom asked. “In the ground?”

  “You don’t understand. Do you believe you are standing on a mountain?”

  Tom stepped back with a start, studying the ground beneath his feet. He gave it a stomp and received great resistance. His boot picked up no soil. Crouching, he collected dust on his fingers and saw that it shimmered blue. Molly came to the same realization as Tom, as did Geoffrey, who had to explain to Leon and Chera that they had been climbing the genamite stone all the while they had been looking for it. Thomas stood, astounded, not having a clue as to what to do next.

  “Impossible,” he whispered. “How am I supposed to take the stone …” He stopped, wondering where or why he’d intended to take the genamite stone at all. “I need this stone in order to …”

  “To what?” asked the Alchemist, standing put as if a wall kept him from coming closer to Tom and the others. “Why did you come here, and what did you expect to find? I ask you again, do you know where you are? This is the middle of the bridge that joins the world you came from to another. It is a doorway. From the land beyond,” he said, turning to point over his shoulder, “came the magic that exists in the world you came from. From the land beyond, came creatures that scarcely exist anymore, if at all, in Europe, in Africa, Asia and elsewhere.”

  “Why are you here?” inquired Tom, demanding the Alchemist explain himself if Tom were to do the same.

  “The Eigh
th.”

  “The Eighth?” Tom’s brow furrowed. His trust in the Alchemist waned.

  “I cannot let him find this place. He and the others will ruin it, just as they will ruin the other world or any world they wish. I am the one who unlocked the secrets of alchemy. I made it possible for the Metal Man to become what he is, and I was a fool to have done it!” He was yelling now, his forehead wrinkling against the hard edges of the gold seared to the skin of his head. “He made me the Third, and trusted me, just as I began to betray him. I told the others our plans were abominable, and we could not go on with them. The Second was the only one who listened to me. When I found this place, I built the trials to keep out anyone whose soul was unclean. Physical tests would not do. When I fled from the Eighth, I left instructions for the Second, so he could find me here …”

  “Who is the Second?” Tom asked.

  “Harlan Crowe.”

  “Enough!” Tom yelled at the top of his lungs, pinching his head between his palms and shutting his eyes.

  “Thomas.” Molly put a hand on his shoulder, unsure what to say to him.

  “I’ve had enough,” he said. “No more mysteries. No more secrets. No more of this nonsense. I’ll not have it!” He turned to the Alchemist, storming toward him and drawing Brother. “Why did you tell Harlan to come here? What were you going to do with the stone?”

  “The stone cannot be controlled,” was the Alchemist’s answer. He did not flinch when Tom waved Brother in front of his blind eyes.

  “I’ll find a way to control it,” snapped Tom. “I’ve got an expert on magic. Geoffrey!” he called.

  “You will go,” the Alchemist corrected, stepping back. “Leave in any direction you please, but you will not have the stone.” Putting two fingers between his lips, he whistled and turned to walk to the edge of the summit.

  A calamitous rumble shook the ground under everyone’s feet. The warm breeze grew hot, and a sound like the sails of a ship thrashing grew closer and louder by the second. Tom and Molly struck defensive positions, watching the Alchemist with caution. Leon touched a hand to his épée, and Chera reached for the guns on her hip. Ine, unshaken, wrapped one hand around the handle of Yatagarasu and waited.

  Whap. Whap …The sound grew louder as two great spiny wings rose into view just over the edge of the summit behind the Alchemist. The span from wingtip to wingtip was at least twenty-five metres. With a crash, a scaly, three-digit talon slapped the summit and gripped the hard genamite ground with crushing force, its hooked claws scraping ditches in the stone. Another talon followed, and two powerful arms, colored so darkly green they were nearly black, hoisted a behemoth reptilian body up onto the summit, two squat legs kicking behind it, followed by a whip tail that beat the air like a cat’s. A thick neck rose from the torso, carrying a head crowned with a long, flowing, feathery crest that tapered down the neck and floated on the hot breeze. The jaws of the beast snapped open and shut in a chewing motion, furls of smoke rising from two nostrils at the end of a long snout. The short, ugly teeth fencing the tongue inside the gums were dark and stained by buildup of dingy metals, melted and fused to the enamel. Atop its head, mostly grown over by the feathery crest, a bulky old tree stump sat, its roots crawling down the face and shading the serpentine eyes. The creature shook its head like a horse as the Alchemist climbed its right forelimb, seating himself where the beast’s neck met the shoulders.

  “Leave,” said the Alchemist sleepily. “I cannot stop you, but Yacumama will. It depends upon the magic here to sustain itself, and it protects Nok dol Ghon without mercy or hesitation. The way back is cleared. You will find no obstacles in your path. Go, now, if you’ve anything to live for.”

  Yacumama, the magnificent being bearing the Alchemist, lurched forward and blasted the adventurers with an otherworldly scream that made their ears ring and buzz. Snapping its jaws together, it belched loudly and vomited a stream of molten material from its throat that splattered the summit, hissing and crawling down the slope toward their feet, driving them back with an infernal heat.

  “Thomas! We cannot stay here!” shouted Molly, covering her mouth and coughing as her lungs felt the sting of sulfurous vapor drifting their way.

  Tom, still facing Yacumama and holding his blade aloft, glanced at Molly, then back to the Alchemist and back to Molly again. He had come so far, but he could not ask her or the others to stand and fight an opponent that would surely end their lives in a fiery river if they did not submit and turn back. Swearing loudly, Tom turned and ordered everyone back down the slope and across the escarpment.

  Behind them, Yacumama screamed loudly, flapping its wings and stamping the ground, making racket enough to wake the dead. Its ferocity had so frightened those who had come before that many had died of fear before they could even draw a weapon to strike. Tom and his friends were the first and only, aside from Alecandre Love, to see the summit of Nok dol Ghon and walk away again.

  As the Alchemist had promised, no dangers were in place to surprise them. The temple where their hallucinations had nearly taken their lives was gone, as if it had never existed. Instead, a worn path descending the mountain began where it had stood. Prides gravely injured, none of the six spoke, and no one but Molly dared even to look at Thomas. Smoldering with an intensity Molly had never seen before, Tom’s yellow eyes, full of anger, pain, disappointment and bitterness, did not move from the trail ahead.

  All the way down the mountain Tom behaved strangely. His anger gave way to paranoid tendencies. He looked over his shoulder every few paces, scanning the now darkening forest with wide eyes. Everyone else walked with two free hands, but not Tom. Brother swung by his side, and he gripped it nervously.

  The lower the light, the quicker everyone had to move to keep up with their captain. Several times Tom wanted to take a shortcut, but Molly refused to allow it, since they had no way of knowing where it would lead them. It was better to follow the safe path the Alchemist had left for them, she argued. No one else wanted to deviate from the trail either, but they all let Molly do the challenging.

  In the last light of day, the sounds of the wilderness changed. New calls and shrieks echoed through the trees, and unseen beings roamed the dark underbrush. Tom had sensed something since leaving the summit. Something was following him—not the crew, but him exclusively. He heard it and felt it but did not realize what it was until it found him.

  On a flat stretch of trail a dark shape obstructed the way ahead, stretching across the path and clinging to the branches of the trees, bending them such that a tunnel was created. No one could make out what it was, but Tom stopped in his tracks a great distance away from it. Night had not yet fallen. Another hour-and-a-half of dusk remained.

  “Thomas,” said Molly nervously, keeping her voice low. “What do you see?”

  Tom did not answer. His eyes locked on the dark mass as it moved. The tops of the trees beside the trail snapped back away from the path as the mass released their branches and dropped to the ground. The shape rose and took on the likeness of a black tar bubble; then it squeezed inward, causing many tendrils of shadow to sprawl out from it at the bottom.

  “Ine, may I borrow Yatagarasu?” asked Tom.

  “I cannot, unless I have something of yours,” she answered.

  “Will this do?” he asked, unfastening Brother from his belt and handing it to her.

  “One moment.” Ine spoke something to Yatagarasu under her breath. “Yes, now you may,” she said, trading him her sword.

  As the crew looked on, confused by the exchange, the dark mass on the trail became almost human from midway up, like a monk wrapped in a cloak and covered by a hood, except as black as night. When the mass next moved, it crept down the path toward Tom and the others. Everyone except the wild-eyed captain stepped backward.

  “Thomas!” Molly barked. “Thomas, what are you doing? What is that?”

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Tom. “I’ve been thinking lately about names I’d like to give to our c
hildren some day.” As he looked at her momentarily over one shoulder, she saw that his expression was calm. Just calm.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Molly, fearful, did not understand why he would not back away from the approaching ghoul.

  “Can we talk about it sometime?” asked Tom, turning to face the black specter, who stopped ten paces from Tom and began to sprout arms, each of which was wrapped in a black sleeve of shadow. At its feet, where many tendrils of its cloak swept the earth like tentacles, the soil burst, and a sinewy vine grew up toward one of the figure’s outstretched hands. Tom rested one hand on Yatagarasu, hanging from his belt.

  Slowly, it dawned on Molly that Tom had run out of time. The stone they had come to find at Nok dol Ghon was denied them, and nothing had been done about Tom’s condition. Nearly three months had passed. Only hours were left, but the Octopus had already come.

  “Molly, you are to assume the position of captain of The Roatán Butterfly. The rest of you,” Tom addressed the others, “will obey her orders as you would mine.” He set down Alecandre Love’s notes for Molly to pick up.

  “Thomas, wait! Where are you going? What are we supposed to do?” Trembling as she spoke, Molly could not ask him the questions fast enough.

  “You are to leave for the Caribbean. Make your way back to London.”

  “But where are you going?”