by Eli Ingle
“What the …?” exclaimed Rigel, jumping to his feet. Then they blinked and there was no black sludge or eyes. The sausages were lying on the dusty floor as the liquid they were suspended in soaked up the dirt. Jhoan swooped down and picked the can up, leaving the dirtier sausages on the floor.
“That’s half of them gone,” the bandit commented gloomily as he looked inside.
“What was that that just happened?!” demanded Rigel.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Jhoan, “but I’ve got a horrible feeling that we’re going to be seeing much more of that kind of thing before we’ve finished walking through here ….”
They ate the sausages cold and in gloomy silence, and did not feel either particularly refreshed or revived once they had finished. The food tasted greasy and sat uneasily in Rigel’s stomach. He rubbed it unhappily whilst staring at the path ahead. It bent around a corner so he could not see where they would next be going, but the thought of travelling further through the gorge made him feel so disheartened that he wanted to curl up into a ball and never move again. Jhoan was saying something to him but it sounded as though it was being spoken through water, making him ignore it. The bandit spoke louder and louder and finally shook Rigel, making him look up with a start.
“What?” he asked.
“Come on,” said Jhoan, pulling him to his feet. Rigel swayed uneasily on the spot and looked around. “Come on,” he repeated and grabbing his wrist, pulled Rigel behind him.
Walking through the gorge, they found that the next part of the journey was as uneventful as the first until they rounded another corner and the gap between the two walls grew smaller. Sighing as he led the way, Rigel began to squeeze through the gap, walking sideways to pass through easier. A rumbling crunch filled the air and Rigel realised with horror that the walls were closing in on him. Wheezing and panting, he tried to shout to Jhoan.
“Get me out! Help!” he cried but barely a wisp of air floated out.
The walls pressed in further until he could barely feel anything except the burning ache in his ribs. After a moment they snapped, flying inwards and sending shards of bone through his body. A woman’s scream filled the air, unbearably loud. Crying and wailing in desperation, Rigel fell to the floor.
“What are you doing?” asked Jhoan.
Looking up, Rigel saw the bandit looking at him as though he had gone mad. Suddenly he realised his ribs weren’t shattered and there was no-one screaming … nor were the walls closing together. He was lying on the floor with more than enough room around him. Slowly he got to his feet and looked around before hesitantly describing to Jhoan what had happened.
“That does sort of make sense,” said the bandit. “If this really is a Nightmare Gorge, and I’m starting to think it is, this is the second of many to come. We need to keep an eye out for each other and reassure ourselves if one of us is having a vision.”
“Great,” said Rigel as he brushed himself off, starting to feel foolish despite what Jhoan had just said. “Let’s go – the sooner we get out of here, the better.”
Carrying on their way, they moved quickly as they tried to find the end of the gorge, which unfortunately seemed to be nowhere in sight.
They stopped to rest later that evening. Rigel was raked with nerves about what the night would bring, so much so that he was terrified of going to sleep. Jhoan had found them a nook where the path turned a corner and had set their things down there.
Pressing himself into the corner, Rigel swaddled himself in his blanket and looked out over the path, owl-like. Jhoan was looking for firewood but they seemed to have passed the last of the dead trees some time ago.
“Do you think we should take watches?” he asked.
“Probably,” replied the bandit. “I’ll go first, you get some rest.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, but wake me up if you see anything.”
“I will do.”
“Okay, goodnight.”
“Night.”
Shutting his eyes, Rigel was surprised at how easy it was to go to sleep. However, unlike the usual feeling of sinking into a warm, pleasant place, it was like sliding into cold tar. Shivering, he spent his time asleep tormented by countless nightmares of the five purple eyes opening in the darkness.
He was finally shaken awake by Jhoan, who took his place in the corner whilst Rigel sat awake on guard. Rigel felt happier than when he had been asleep, but also edgier, as he knew that any danger here would be real, compared to the harmless (albeit unpleasant) dreams.
Eventually, the morning came and Rigel shook Jhoan awake. After eating a small breakfast they gathered their things together and set off along the path again. The travelling was uneventful, but Jhoan seemed to be talking to himself. At first, Rigel did not notice, but after a while Jhoan grew louder and louder, muttering things to himself.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What?” asked the bandit, spinning around.
“You’re talking to yourself.”
“Am I?”
Rigel nodded.
“Oh … I didn’t realise …” His voice trailed away and he began staring at something in the distance.
Rigel was troubled that the whole of the Realm seemed fundamentally wrong. Everything was out of place, the sun was dying, the stars were light bulbs and mountain passes were full of terrifying vision induced monsters.
“I miss the others,” admitted Rigel, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with it. He didn’t usually have much in common with Jhoan that they could talk about, but this was certainly a subject they could agree on. Jhoan nodded his head and sighed, looking around at the gorge.
“Hopefully it won’t be long before we see them again.”
“Yes.”
Walking onwards and onwards, it started to feel as though there was not even an end to get to and that they were destined to spend the rest of their days wandering, tortured, through the gorge.
Taking a sharp right turn, they noticed holes bored into the side of the rock face, perfectly formed and with a puncture wound as though they had been perfectly crafted. At first, they were small, numerous, and about the width of a pencil, but further along the path, grew larger until many were the size of basketballs. There was something darkly enchanting about the holes in the rock and the travellers found themselves staring at them as they passed by. The darkness within the holes was all-consuming – thick and unmovable even when a light was shone on it. Despite the captivation the holes held over them, Rigel could not shake the sense of foreboding he felt in his chest as he stared at them. Jhoan was running his hand around the rim of one when they heard a chittering emanating from it.
“What was that?!” asked Rigel, stepping away from it.
Jhoan did not answer but instead, to Rigel’s horror, reached through the blackness of the hole and pushed his arm inside it. The bandit’s irrational behaviour seriously alarmed Rigel. What on earth possessed him to act this way?
“What are you doing?” Rigel shouted, rushing forwards and attempting to pull the bandit away from the hole. Jhoan shook him off irritably.
“Stop it, Rigel,” the bandit muttered. Rigel saw the way the bandit was looking at the hole.
“There’s an enchantment on it, Jhoan! It wants you to put your hand in there. What’s the point in saying we’ll watch out for each other if you’re going to ignore me?!”
“I want to see what’s in there,” the bandit said, almost crooning.
At first, nothing happened but then Rigel realised that the noise was growing louder – a horrible slithering sound that conjured up thoughts of slimy things moving in the dark. Jhoan frowned as he moved his arm up to his shoulder, but before he could get any further, his eyes widened and he yelped with involuntary horror as something inside seized him greedily and started reeling him in.
“Get off! Get off!” he shouted, pushing
his feet up against the wall, arching his back and pulling away from it, only to be pulled back in again a moment later. “Help me!”
Rigel hurried over and threw his arms around Jhoan, pulling back from the hole but it was no good – he could barely make him move at all.
Scrambling with his other hand, the bandit managed to loosen his holster and pull out his pistol. Cocking it, he pointed it down the hole and pulled the trigger. The bang echoed louder in the confined space and the blast lit up the small area, from which smoke poured out a moment later. The thing inside screamed with a high-pitched wail that hurt their ears but let go of Jhoan, who yanked his arm out with a cry of relief. The shot had scorched his skin and cut a groove down his hand between his first finger and thumb. The bandit gave his hand an experimental waggle. When everything moved as it should, he grinned at Rigel, attempting to appear cocky.
“Nothing worse than what I saw in the undercity,” the bandit smirked.
Not bothering to ask what the undercity was, but making a note to bring it up later, Rigel stared mistrustfully at the hole in the wall. Tendrils of smoke were still wafting out.
“What was that?!” asked Rigel,
“Felt like a tentacle,” shuddered the bandit. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Your hand,” Rigel began.
“Leave it, let’s go!”
A smell of scorched flesh and rotting meat was seeping out of the hole, making them feel sick. Not wanting to hang around, Rigel hurried after Jhoan, who was already running away.
Things in the other holes were stirring, disturbed by the attack on the other creature. Rigel had a horrible moment of wondering if they were all part of the same thing. He did not have long to think about it as Jhoan stopped running and bent over with his hands on his knees. The next moment, he vomited. Rigel patted him on the back.
“Are you alright?”
“Oh yeah, I’m dandy, thank you. Here.” He pulled out all three of his guns and kept two for himself but gave Rigel the other. It was surprisingly heavy and cold.
“What do you want me to do with this?” asked Rigel, unable to take his eyes off it.
“Bake a cake …. Shoot the thing if it comes back, obviously!”
“But I’ve never fired a gun before.”
“It’s quite easy: pull that back; then pull the trigger. Make sure it’s not loaded if you’re carrying it around.”
“Why have you given it to me?”
“If I need help again then you might have to help me, or if I’m engaged you might have to help yourself. You’ll be fine. Now, let’s go because those holes are making noises and I want to get out of here.”
Before Rigel had a chance to say anything else, the bandit was off again, running along the gorge. Rigel charged after him but knew it was no good – out of the corner of his eye he saw the tentacles before they hit. Swinging in from the right, they floored him before he had even looked around properly. Falling, he hit his head on the floor and dropped the gun, which skidded across to the other corner. Jhoan’s way had been blocked by three tentacles that crossed each other. Dazed and confused, Rigel managed to roll over towards the gun before the thing grabbed hold of him. Scrambling over, he picked up the gun and cocked it. The tentacle was faster, and punched him in the face before sliding around his neck and beginning to choke him. Fruitlessly trying to pull it off, he pressed the gun to the underside of the tentacle and pulled the trigger. The gun jumped in his hand and fell to the floor but it shot properly before that, blasting a hole through the thing and making it scream in pain. Thick pink goo oozed out of the wound and it relinquished its hold on him, sliding back into the hole in the wall. Stooping down, he picked up the gun and ran towards Jhoan, who was fighting three at once.
The bandit was putting up a decent fight against two of the tentacles but having difficulty with the third. Rigel shot at it and missed, blasting a chunk out of the stone instead. Firing again, he missed completely. Shooting a third time, he hit it and watched with satisfaction as it writhed and slid away. Rigel did not dare aim at the final two as they were so close to Jhoan and Rigel was such a bad shot. Eventually, Jhoan managed to finish off the tentacles. The travellers stood panting and looked at each other grimly, covered in the pink gore of the creature.
“‘Go down Nightmare Gorge’, they said. ‘It’ll be fun’, they said,” Jhoan grumbled.
Running along again, they noticed that the holes in the wall were becoming less frequently spaced. At any rate, the creature must have learnt its lesson as it did not bother them again.
Eventually, they found themselves in a place where the walls were smooth once more and they stopped to rest, hoping that, with the lack of apparent danger or holes for creatures to live in, for the time being at least, they were safe.
After a pause for something to eat, they began travelling again, moving through the gorge. The walls were getting steeper and closer together, cutting off what little daylight there was shining down on them. Rigel was running his hands along the smooth walls as he walked, unaware at first that they were changing, but when they ran over a bump in the wall he recoiled, staring at it.
There, forced out as though it had been pushed up to the other side and then pushed through, making an impression in the stone, was his face. The eyes were closed and the mouth a neutral line. He called for Jhoan, who stared at it with a mix of fascination and revulsion. Without really being able to stop himself, Rigel reached out and pressed the face. It was hard like stone but warm as though it were alive. At his touch the eyes opened, making him recoil backwards. The eyes stared at them for a moment before the mouth opened as wide as it would go and the face screamed. The sound was full of terror and loathing as though it was aware of what it was. Endless and unbroken, the screaming continued, bouncing around the gorge. Rigel was petrified, shivering with goose bumps and unable to comprehend what he was seeing. At the sound of the screaming, more bumps began to press through the stone around it, more and more, until both sides of the gorge were lined with shapeless lumps of stone but then slowly, noses pressed through and then lips, foreheads and eyes until hundreds and hundreds of faces lined the walls. This time they were not all the same. Rigel’s face, then Jhoan’s, became clear in the stone. The first face was still wailing that awful, unbroken howl and the sound of it woke the others, who opened their eyes all at once, looked at the travellers and then opened their mouths as wide as they would go and duplicated the sound of the first. The cacophony of hundreds and hundreds of faces screamed at them.
Rigel fell to the floor and put his hands over his head, unable to block out the sound due to the sheer volume. Jhoan grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to his feet, despite Rigel’s protests. He was too scared to move but was pulled along anyway. Rows and rows of faces, all in perfect alignment, screamed at them as they ran until they blended into a blur of mouths and eyes. They must have run for five minutes when suddenly they reached a point where the floor was cut away in a straight line. Pulled by the momentum of their running, they could not stop and fell over the edge into the abyss below, down a hundred-foot drop and towards the spear-like stones beneath.
Chapter Fourteen
For all the abject disinterest Zeph had been taking in the world as of late, he was now staring at the transformed man with absolute horror. Frivlok barely noticed as he himself was fascinated by the transformation.
“It seems I have taken you by surprise,” the man commented. “Perhaps I should just start at the beginning and explain it to you?”
Frivlok nodded.
“I am Vegalior,” he said, “the Deceiver. You deployed me in this village when you foresaw the end of the Dark War. I cannot remember your exact wording. Forgive me – it was many moons ago. But essentially it was a backup plan, an outpost should anything go wrong. Of course, we did not foresee that they would pull that vile trick that ruptured the world and upset the balance of order; otherwise, all would have gone to plan.
“So I was sent here to do my duty and create an outpost for your return, which I have done.”
“And its purpose is?” asked Frivlok.
“Located near the Dark Realm, it is strategically placed here so as to be the first location at which you arrive, a source of power to revitalise and rebuild you and a base from which to run your operations.”
“And if you knew all of this, especially the location of the Dark Realm,” the Commander boomed, “why did you not return to us and tell us of this?”
“Sir, my orders were strict. Whilst I have relished the work I have put in here, it was no easy matter. Thousands of years of fine tuning and manipulation were required to mould this place. Furthermore, my orders were to remain under all circumstances. I would never dream of disobeying your orders.”
“That, at least, I can respect,” grunted the Commander.
“If my Lords would give me permission to speak freely and without interruption, I would be able to summarise the situation as quickly as possible.”
“Granted.”
Vegalior nodded. “First perhaps I could offer you the refreshment?”
Frivlok was curious. He nodded.
“A moment, sirs.”
Vegalior stood and moved to the closed door. Going inside, there were sounds of rummaging and clinking before he returned with a tall glass decanter, stoppered with a huge ruby. In his left hand, he carried four glasses upside down. Resting the decanter on the table, he used his right hand to neatly flip the glasses onto the table in a line. Removing the stopper, he poured the thick red liquid into the glasses and handed them around.
“Cheers.”
Frivlok swilled the liquid around the glass and inhaled. His mouth watered as the scent overwhelmed him.
“Vintage?” asked the Shapeshifter.
“Seven years,” Vegalior replied. The group smirked at each other. It was an inside joke.