Into the Storm

by Scott Marcy

  They traveled the winding road that led to the castle. With each turn of a swayback, the arched castle gates, brass overlaid on steel and embossed with pictorials, swung open wide. Guards, clothed in red and black uniforms, lay in the gateway, long dead but still at their posts.

  Overgrown gardens and a leaf strewed golden road lay before a mythical castle. The towering spires and tall walls made them dizzy. However, the two golden doors, large enough for a giant to pass, lay open and undefended. As they walked their horses down the straight road, Kaylin said, “There are no bodies.” As they looked about, she said, “The city is full of bodies, but the castle is empty. Weird.”

  At the end of a rectangular hall of stone, white pillars lining the sides, a tall flight of stairs ended at a dais, and up the dais lay a golden throne. The figure seated upon the throne — clothed in royal blue, a red cape around his shoulders, and a golden crown upon his head — appeared to be thinking. Their footsteps echoed off the throne room hall, but the moment they stopped, silence, so deep and so profound shook them to the very core. The figure upon the throne never moved or made a sound, but he kept staring at the open doorway as if deciding whether to leave or stay. When they reached the foot of the stair, the macabre vision became clear. Wrapped in royal robes and clothed in royal blue silks, a corpse sat upon the throne.

  When Jack placed his foot on the first step, a hologram video began to play. A female, translucent figure floated through the air. Her cream and white gown floated as if weightless. She floated down toward them and touched down on the steps before them. “I am the soul of this kingdom, and the king charged me with playing a message for all who venture into his realm.”

  A second figure appeared beside her. The man could have been from any European nation: short blond hair, clean-shaven, slate blue eyes, rugged, and handsome. Likewise, his navy, double-breasted suit declared a man of Earth, a figurative cousin to Jack. Looking down at them, as if directly addressing them, the ghostly figure said, “I am King Reginald the Just, and I am grieved to address you in this fashion.” Reginald spoke with an aristocratic British accent. “But I died over 100 years ago.”

  Chapter 10

  The projection of Reginald smiled and walked down toward them. “What you see is a projection, my doppelganger. It will answer your questions as best it can.”

  “I am Jack Britain Larson, President of the United States of America. Damage to my aircraft forced me to land within your realm, and these … um … warriors safeguarded me.” He rubbed his face and gathered his thoughts. “What happened? Why is everyone dead?”

  Reginald’s face became sullen, and he said, “A drathva broke free from its prison tomb and killed everyone in the kingdom. It is the creature which will kill you, but not until sunset. We still have time to speak. It’s not often I have an American President visit.”

  “You’ve had others?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, Margret Drew. Although she became president 100 years after your administration, she arrived on Eden 223 years before you, the oddities of dimensional travel. She and I discussed your mysterious disappearance at length. Conspiracy theories abounded, and scholars wrote a whole library of books on the subject. My departure was far less noteworthy.”

  “How so?” asked Jake.

  “I served in the RAF during the Second World War. I was too tall to be a fighter pilot, so they made me a bomber captain,” he said with a hint of laughter. “Percy, my boyhood best friend, and co-pilot was dead; the remains of his head covered the cockpit and me, taken off by flack.” He grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Two engines were on fire, and a third engine was about to fail. I instructed my crew to bail out over Germany before we hit the channel. I was determined to make it back to England or drop my aircraft in the drink. I would not be a prisoner.”

  “When I was over the channel, I saw foo fighters. Balls of light zipped about my craft. I was terrified.”

  “One of the balls raced through my windscreen and engulfed me. I was formless, everywhere yet nowhere, for a few minutes, and when I emerged, I was thirty feet in the air … without an aircraft. A lake was mercifully beneath me and broke my fall. Thus I arrived in Razûl 453 years ago.”

  “How long?” asked Jack.

  “I know it seems impossible, but the average lifespan of a human on Eden is 700 to 900 years. When I arrived, there was little more than a sleepy village. The people were quite pleasant and willing to share. I lived as one of them for … oh … fifty years. One day I met a princess, Roselyn, a maiden of great beauty and regal title but long bereft of wealth or land. We fell in love, married, and settled down into a pleasant life. One day while I was hiking, I spotted the golden gleam in a stream. Several of us formed a partnership, and we opened a gold mine. One thing led to another, and we built this castle. The other partners moved away, or family conspirators murdered the remainder. I formed a parliament to ensure that no one person would have absolute power, and they made me king, an irony to be sure.”

  “Did she also perish?” Jack asked.

  Reginald’s lips parted, gaze lowered, and shoulders sagged. “Rosalyn departed for the Undying Lands over a century ago.” The king became stiff as a mannequin and his features without expression. “Killed in a surprise daemia attack,” he said and struggled to maintain his composure. “And what of you — is there a Mrs. Larson?”

  “She died in a terrorist attack,” Jack said and rubbed his temples.

  “I’m so sorry,” Reginald said. “I understand your pain: our wives were the light of our lives and the delight of our souls. When the city lived, we had slavery. Ghastly business, my wife labored endlessly to ban it, but parliament resisted her. The mine owners employed slaves as a cheap source of labor. What freeman would risk death by daemia or a haugr? The average life span of a slave in the mines was six months. Criminal offenders — murders, thieves, bankruptcy defaulters, and such the like — were sold to pay their debt to society.”

  Jack said, “We really have to talk about all the dead bodies. You mentioned a curse?” Jack waited in silence because of Reginald’s pain.

  “The curse fell upon the kingdom at sunset 100 years ago. We planned a celebration that night, and the city was alive with anticipation. The alarm first arose from the surrounding communities. Shadow demons transformed entire families into mutinous psychopaths. When they laid siege to the city, we shut the gates and fought a desperate battle to save our home. However, the darkness overwhelmed us and slaughtered my subjects. Those not killed became infected as with a virus.”

  “The cursed were horribly disfigured and filled with an insane rage.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I recall the nightmare in bits and pieces. The cursed people went on a murderous rampage, killing and slaughter the unaffected. When morning arrived, the cursed hid in basements or behind shuttered windows. The survivors and I gathered in the castle. We prepared our defenses and resisted the cursed. However, each night the shadow demons returned and more of us died. When the last person died, I threw open the doors. Death arrived, and I was ready to face it. I drank a vial of poison, sat on my throne, and died.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes and asked, “And what of us?”

  Reginald began to float away from them and shook his head. “Those unlucky enough to enter this land come to a terrible end. Some evade the shadow demons for a while, hold up in private chambers or fleeing through the streets, but in the end, they too died. I apologize for what you will go through tonight. My advice is to make your death quick as I did. You will find an ample supply of poison in the library. It’s best to make a quick end of it.”

  Chapter 11

  The opulence of gilded frescos, ribbed ceilings, great pillars, marble floors, wine color rugs, and towering windows promised great treasure hidden within the castle. However, the guardian assured them that death awaited them after sunset. If it was a lie, they could stay and become rich, but who would lie about such a verifiable threat? Also, dead bodies littered the k
ingdom. No, it had to be the truth, and this truth required action.

  The women gathered on the balcony and debated their next course of action. They faced the west and viewed the sun hanging low, falling toward the western Barrier Mountains. The vivid crimson and pink hues painted the sky with beauty that contradicted the horror that awaited them.

  Alex clung to the rough castle well despite the bitter chill: it made the experience real, not a dreamscape. Her thoughts drifted back to Earth and the stark difference between then and now. She recalled a lifetime as a man and the memories it forged, but this body, an elva body, could create life, and that made all the difference.

  Jack strode toward them, lips tight, eyes narrow, and brow furrowed. He stripped off his necktie and unbuttoned his collar. “We have to get out of here.”

  “And go where? The main gate is closed and protected by a magical spell,” asked Alex. “We have to stand and fight.”

  “Everyone who did that is dead,” Lyra replied. “We have to run.”

  When a debate broke out among them, Kaylin raised her voice and said, “We could go through the mines. They go all the way through the mountain and come out the other side. It’s our only way out.”

  “The dwarves would have tried that,” Lyra replied.

  “And maybe they escaped,” Alex said. “You don’t know, and it’s better than waiting here to die.”

  “Our dead host knows more than he’s saying, but we don’t have time to find out what it is.” Jack grasped the stone railing, to make sure it was real and that this was not a nightmare. “Kaylin is right. We have to try something, and the mines are our only hope.”

  “What are we waiting for,” Kaylin said. “Let’s gather some supplies and go.”

  After they had collected their gear, they reassembled on the patio. The glass doors to Jack’s suite flew open, and all eyes turned to see the president. A silver steel breastplate embossed with gold detail, chainmail beneath it, leather clothes beneath the chainmail, pauldrons on his shoulders, gauntlets on his arms, greaves on his shins, heater shield strapped to his left arm, and a sword clutched in his right hand, the president strode toward them. The girls restrained their giggles, and Alex asked, “Where did you get that?”

  “From a display out in the hallway,” he replied and put on a helmet. “I’m not running around here in a business suit while a drathva is trying to kill me, whatever a drathva is. I want to be armed and ready.”

  A red sun hung low in the west and started to drop behind the Barrier Mountains. “Let’s go,” Lyra said. They hurried across the patio and down the steps. They sprinted across the garden and then a cobblestone street. When they reached the white rectangular stables, they found their horses in the stable. After they had saddled the horses, they galloped around the courtyard. With a clatter of hooves, they fled toward town. “Hurry, sunset is in an hour.”

  Chapter 12

  They galloped through the new city and then through old town. The sun slipped from the sky as they fled toward the back of Nose Mountain. When they reached the mine entrance, Sterling dismounted and formed a ball with her hands and then stabbed out her right hand. A powerful blast leaped from her hand and exploded against the iron gates. When the smoke and dust cleared, the entrance lay before them like an open grave.

  They dismounted and hurried for the entrances. “I visited these mines long ago,” Kaylin said, “when I was a little girl. Cars loaded with gold ore rolled out, and supply wagons entered. Pallets of supplies filled the sides of the cave, and everywhere you looked someone was negotiating a price. The dwarves built a small town, and it was comfortable with soft beds and hot food.”

  Jack watched the sun fall behind the mountains and said, “We better get going. Our time is almost up. Besides, we don’t have any idea what we’ll face down there.”

  “Yes,” Lyra said, “the depths hold many secrets.”

  “Like daemia and haugrs,” Alex said and frowned at the unpleasant memory. “Why don’t we ever find bunnies and hedgehogs hiding in spooky mines? How about soft, furry humanoids that like to hug?”

  “Because rabbits don’t kill cities,” Lyra replied. “With luck, we will emerge on the other side. From there we can walk to the tent city and hire ponies to take us to Refuge.”

  Thoughts of home, loved ones, joyous reunions came to mind when the shadow of the mountain fell upon them, but morose thoughts drove them away. The stench of death greeted them first and made all ill. “You know, just once I would like to go in a mine that isn’t a death trap,” Alex said. Broken carts, collapsed tents covered with dust, and broken clay vessels littered the ground — then they came upon the bodies. Mummified corpses, dried to whitleather, littered the way into the mountain.

  “Sterling, how about some light?” Alex asked. Sterling drew a knife from behind her back and chanted the magical words. The knife blade began to glow and then a pulse of energy leaped from it. It soared in a high arc and slowly descended. The bodies of men and dwarves covered the ground. “We know what happened to the other search parties that entered the mountain.”

  Lyra squatted next to the corpse of a young man. Several arrows jutted out of the dead man’s chest, and Lyra pulled one out. “Daemia,” she said with a snarl. “Who else could create such a foul stench?”

  “There is something else here.” As if in a trance, Sterling ran her hand over a rough wall, and she whispered, “It’s watching us.”

  Kaylin took the lead since she was most familiar with mines. Doors ajar, tables overturned, rotted and dried food upon the ground, broken windows, the stench of death all around, they passed through a small village. The dwarven residences grew numerous and formed a labyrinth. However, a wide, broad road marked the entry to the mine.

  “Nose Mountain connects to the entire chain of Barrier Mountains. Hundreds of miles of shafts lay ahead of us. This may take days or weeks to find the proper path,” Kaylin said.

  Jack took a swig from his canteen and said, “You know, I don’t think whatever is waiting for us will be that patient. It will find us.”

  “Exactly what I’m worried about,” Alex said. She gathered up her hair behind her head and put on her helmet, and the other girls copied her. Their hands grazed their weapons, and their eyes searched for threats. However, the darkness watched them and revealed nothing.

  Up high stairs, around twisted paths, through meager openings, they continued their trek into the heart of the mountain. The corpses of miners and slaves grew more numerous. Something oppressive, smothering, and malevolent grew more powerful with each step taken. They spoke only in whispers for fear of rousing whatever lingered in the heart of the mountain.

  Kaylin estimated that they reached the heart of Nose Mountain and that they would begin their exit at any time. At the nexus of five tunnels, they saw light where no one expected. Blocks lay beside a set of descending stairs. Kaylin crept across a slender bridge, her swords ready for action. The light grew stronger, and the smooth walls of a rectangular passage ended at a doorway. Holding her breath, Kaylin moved to the edge of the doorframe and used one of her swords as a mirror.

  The pale light illuminated a petrified corpse that lay atop a sacrificial altar. She paused in the entryway and searched for traps. The room, however, was a simple rectangle with few features, except for inscriptions upon the wall, a hole on the far side, and an altar. The obscure writing and pictographs of the ancients spoke of hatred and damnation, curses upon the one who freed “the nameless one,” a being so despised that uttering the name brought judgment.

  When Kaylin directed her light across the chamber, she saw a ragged hole and blocks lying upon the floor. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned and saw her comrades. Upon entering, the darkness stole the very breath from her and made her blood surge. They approached the altar and gazed upon the victim.