Eldritch Assassin

by Adam Witcher

  The voices ignored him. He managed to break an arm free from someone and ripped the bag from his head. He was surrounded by five or six elven men, all old yet strong, all enraged at his sight of them. It happened quickly, so quickly that he only got a close look at one face. The only one he recognized. One he’d seen on countless portraits around Aerin’s house and in pamphlets around the city. Aerin’s father—Hector, Avalour’s beloved mayor and leader. He caressed a dagger. Another hand reached out to replace the bag, and Isaac glimpsed a tattoo on the wrist. A scorpion. Then all went black again.

  The chanting got louder, and Isaac continued to resist, but it was futile. Soon he was tied down completely. He breathed heavily, hoped that his worst suspicions weren’t true. Deep down, though, he knew they were.

  He was a human sacrifice. To what, he didn’t know, didn’t know if he wanted to know, but the glinting blade in Mayor Hector's hand spoke volumes. As the chanting continued to get louder, he could visualize Hector’s standing above him and preparing to plunge the knife into his torso. The irony was too much. He would kill the human who had desecrated his precious elf daughter without realizing it.

  Before that happened, he felt a faint rumbling. The chanting ceased.

  “What’s going on?” someone asked. Nobody had an answer.

  “Scorpius, hear our prayers!” another elf shouted. “We beseech thee. Are you pleased or angry?”

  Scorpius, Isaac thought. Is that another god? He’d never heard the name.

  Distant sounds of shattering glass pulsed through the dark walls.

  “We offer you a human, Scorpius,” the voice said again. “Is this not what you desire?”

  Now, he heard the sounds of rocks shaking free and falling—the walls of the temple.

  The elves panicked. Their footsteps echoed throughout the room, their voices cacophonous against the crumbling temple.

  Then another sound—a hissing or sucking—emanated from somewhere in the room. The panicked shouts became screams. Isaac struggled harder. The table he was strapped to toppled and he thudded against the ground.

  The rope around one of his hands came loose, and he worked it free. The elves either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Their voices became faint as they fled the room. He heard the sound of metal clatter to the floor. When he removed the bag from his head, he saw the knife that should have killed him on the ground, barely in reach. Behind it, something impossible.

  A great purple-lined oval was in the center of the room. When Isaac looked through it, he saw a distant and alien landscape, desolate and ugly. Strange shapes moved about within it, creatures he’d never seen before. Giant, writhing, tentacled things.

  Isaac grabbed the knife, cut his ropes free, and tumbled from the overturned table, then recoiled against the wall from the strange oval. He no longer wanted to look into it, only to escape. His foot knocked against something solid before he fled—the book on top of the satchel, left behind in the hasty flight of the murderous elves. Without thinking, he picked it up, then ran through the hallway that led him there.

  The temple was in shambles. Sections of the wall and ceiling had already collapsed. Paintings had fallen from the walls. When he reached the entryway, he turned to look at the enormous depiction of Saldana in its final moments. The stained glass had already blown out. Saldana shook, and Isaac turned to flee. He pushed through the golden doors and out into the streets of Cormea.

  He was greeted by a city in chaos. Whatever was happening inside the temple wasn’t isolated. Elves ran screaming through the streets, surrounded by more of the purple ovals. There were several dozen visible from where he stood.

  What were those things? The word found its way to his lips—portals. A word he’d seen several times during his frantic copying of the book. Portals to what, he didn’t know, but this was no time to wonder.

  The elves were in the midst of a pandemonium. Why were they so panicked? The portals were strange and terrifying, but these elves screamed as if their very lives were in danger. All they had to do was avoid them, right?

  Then he saw what they were so afraid of. From one portal, a huge, dark green tentacle emerged and wrapped around an elf woman. It grabbed her and pulled her into whatever strange dimension it had sprung from. He looked at other portals and saw that the event wasn’t isolated. Tentacles and other horrid appendages were taking elves left and right.

  He needed to get far away, quickly.

  He made a run for it.

  Sprinting through the street, he did his best to stay away from portals, clutching the blade in one hand and the satchel in the other. More kept opening. As he was about to turn a corner, a new portal opened directly ahead of him. He did his best to slow his momentum, but the creature on the other side was ready. The tentacle reached through and wrapped around him, suction cups holding tight to his skin. He stabbed at it desperately, but it was no use.

  It pulled him through.

  3

  For a moment, Isaac was so disoriented that his mind couldn’t comprehend what had happened. Up and down were one and the same. The bleary color spectrum existed in a nonsensical order. His body felt as though it was thrust through a mirror.

  Once his mind adapted, and he saw and felt the tentacle wrapped around his waist, he let out a guttural cry.

  He was now surrounded by the desolate landscape he’d seen through the portals. Monstrous forms moved through rugged terrain, and screams pierced the air. Lightning streaked across the sky. Hundreds of portals were scattered about, all of them surrounded by the tentacled horrors that had plucked elves—and Isaac—from their plane of reality.

  The tentacle that gripped his waist jerked him backward, and he twisted his head to look at its source. The appendages emerged from a massive fissure in the ground, but he couldn’t see the rest of the bodies beyond yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

  He still gripped the satchel and dagger in either hand, so he threw the satchel around his shoulder and dug the blade into the tentacle.

  The creature screeched, the sound so foreign that it sent a chill through him. Green blood—or something like blood—oozed from the wound.

  All right, so these things aren’t gods.

  He stabbed at it again and again, and its cries got louder. It moved its other three tentacles toward him. When they were close enough to strike, he slashed those, too. The Mayor’s blade was sharp, and it cut through gelatinous skin easily. He tried not to think of how easily it would have pierced his own flesh.

  When the tentacle that held him was thoroughly mutilated, it dropped him. Isaac fell against hard dirt. Other tentacles waved above, readying more strikes.

  He looked to the portal he’d come in from, and to his horror, he saw that it was closing. Little by little, the window into Avalour disappeared. He sprinted toward it.

  It was too late.

  In the last moment before it disappeared completely, he locked eyes with an elf woman who looked back in horror. He could see it on her face—she believed she was witnessing his death. Or something worse.

  “No, no, no!” Isaac screamed at the nothingness. All around, the other portals were closing too. Desperate elves rushed to them, only to be picked up by tentacles and dragged underground.

  Isaac jumped out of the way as the unseen beast attacked him again. He ran, looking for any space that was far enough from the fissures to feel safe.

  Safe. Who am I kidding?

  There was nothing safe about this place. The screams began to dissipate as the remaining elves either died or were dragged to subterranean depths.

  His tentacled beast gave up. Its mutilated appendages disappeared into the cracks alongside the others. Then there was silence.

  The more immediate threats now gone, Isaac took a chance to breathe and look around him.

  The sky and soil were both the same shade of reddish brown, so close that he could barely make out the lines where the tops of mountains stopped and the sky began. It looked like an alien planet, like
nothing Isaac had ever seen or heard about on Tierra.

  He looked closer, and beyond the mountains, the shape of something massive and alive shambled slowly. Whatever it was, it was too distant to make out. Lightning illuminated it occasionally, but it only highlighted a silhouette of something shaped vaguely like a man, but with multiple spindly arms.

  When he looked in other directions, he saw other great shapes moving. Was this a planet of giants?

  He suddenly remembered the book and satchel. If anything could help him understand this fate, it would be found there.

  Frantically, he thumbed through the pages until he found the one with the portal and the two elves. The very section he’d started copying earlier. He read carefully:

  * * *

  The doors of existence cannot be opened by a mere mortal, be they elf or otherwise. The act of opening one is beyond the physical abilities of a single dimensional entity. It can only be done directly, or through proxy, by an interdimensional being.

  * * *

  Isaac stopped for a moment. An interdimensional being? He’d never been much for religion, but he knew that most everyone agreed there were only two planes of existence. The mortal realm and the immortal realm. But the immortal realm was only accessible through death by the righteous. He didn’t feel dead, and he certainly wasn’t righteous. Not to mention, if this was the afterlife awaiting the righteous, he hardly saw the appeal.

  Something rumbled beneath his feet. Wiping sweat from his brow, he kept reading.

  * * *

  It is believed that an infinite number of dimensions are potentially accessible, given the will of interdimensional entities. It may be that there are a finite number, but to mortals, they are functionally infinite. As a result, little is known about most. Mortals are free to beseech interdimensional beings for access to other realms, but they must do so at their own risk. Many of these entities care little or nothing at all about mortals. We are mere ants beneath their boots.

  * * *

  His reading was interrupted by a scream. He jolted, realizing just how tense he’d become. The scream was from an elf, and it was full of mortal terror.

  He stuffed the book back into the satchel and ran to the source of the sound, warily eyeing the seemingly empty fissures as he passed them. The sound emanated from one. He rushed to it and saw fingertips clinging to the side. An elf hung there.

  Isaac grabbed his wrist and yanked him up to safety—if you called the surface safe. He was young and fit, a dark-skinned elf with a blue tint to his eyes. He wore a charcoal robe that was torn to shreds. Blood oozed from wounds all over him.

  “You…” the elf said. “You… survived.”

  “You did too,” Isaac helped him further away from the fissure, covering himself with blood in the process. “Come on, I’m going to get you out of here.” He wasn’t convinced by his own words. He had no idea how he was going to get out, let alone this dying elf.

  The elf grimaced and shook his head.

  “Take… this...” The elf stuck a trembling hand into his robe and retrieved a dagger. It was pure black, with an insignia on the handle that he vaguely recognized.

  “I have a dagger,” Isaac said, showing the elf his weapon. “I don’t know if it’s going to do us any good, though.”

  “No…” The elf coughed and blood coated his lips. “This is... Saldana’s dagger. Used it to… kill the creature... I was too… late. But you survived. You must take it. Our… only… hope. Use… storms.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Isaac took it.

  “I don’t understand,” Isaac said. “What’s so special about this dagger?”

  “Can… take you back… can… save….”

  The elf coughed again, lolled his head to the side, then died.

  “Wait, wait!” Isaac shook the elf, desperately trying to get him awake, even for just a few more seconds. “I don’t know what to do!”

  The elf didn’t move.

  “Shit!”

  He staggered backward, then pulled out the book again. He flipped through the pages, desperately looking for something, anything about Saldana’s dagger. But there was nothing. Saldana wasn’t mentioned at all.

  He tried to be rational and calm down. There was something special about the dagger, he knew. The elf had said to use the storms. Lightning still appeared intermittently, but how could he possibly use it?

  The dagger felt solid and powerful in his hand, but it still seemed to be just an ordinary dagger. Not enchanted, unless it had lost its magic. Isaac wasn’t well versed in arcane arts, but he did know that enchanted items could lose power over time and use. They needed to be enchanted again periodically. Maybe a trip through an interdimensional portal had stripped it.

  Even so, he didn’t know that lightning could re-enchant something. But the elf had said to use the storms. He looked at a nearby mountain, the tallest in close range. He sighed. If he wanted to harness a lightning strike, he’d need high ground. And anything that put more distance between him and whatever lurked in those subterranean depths was a good thing.

  So he started walking.

  The climb took hours. Many parts of the mountain were too steep to ascend, so he had to keep circling it until he found sections he could manage. All the while, the titanic figures moved in the distance, their silhouettes never failing to frighten Isaac each time they were illuminated by lightning.

  He stopped and gasped for air periodically. His mouth went dry. He’d had no water that day, and thirst made him lightheaded and weak. His legs turned to jelly, and the climb constantly became more difficult.

  Occasionally, lightning struck the peak of his mountain, and each time, it instilled both fear and hope in him. A part of him never wanted to finish the climb, because if nothing became of it, he would be hopeless.

  But eventually, he did reach the top. The wind was relentless, and the lightning felt like it was right above his head. He looked outward across the endless landscape. Even up this high, the titanic figures were still on the horizon. He couldn’t fathom how large they must be.

  He found a rock that stuck up higher than anywhere else around him and placed the dagger on top of it.

  Then he waited.

  As the lightning danced around, he thought of Aerin and wondered if he would ever see her again. He wondered what state Avalour was in, how decimated it was by the portals and monstrous visitors.

  He let himself be afraid of what he saw, of how little he knew about Tierra and parts beyond. He watched the titans move and felt small. Should he make it back home, he resolved, he would do anything he could to learn about what he’d witnessed today.

  Lightning didn’t strike. He waited for hours, and the longer nothing happened, the more he felt hopeless. Hunger and thirst plagued him. No matter how much he skimmed the book, he could find nothing that would help.

  Eventually, he approached the dagger and examined it again. The insignia caught his eye. An arrow piercing an amorphous blob. Where did he recognize it?

  It hit him. He’d seen it in the temple. It must be Saldana’s emblem.

  Saldana. The elf said it was Saldana’s dagger.

  A supposed deity he’d never considered before. If anything, he had a subconscious dislike of her. The elves loved and worshipped her, so he assumed her nature was like theirs. But maybe she was his only shot.

  He fell to his knees, closed his eyes, and prayed.

  * * *

  All right Saldana, I know we haven’t spoken before. I know I’m not exactly a religious guy. But that elf, that emissary of yours… well, I don’t know who he was, but he seemed to be representing you. He’s dead. And I’ve got your dagger. If there’s any chance you can get me out of here, I swear I’ll do anything you want. I don’t want to die here. Clearly that guy had some kind of a mission. Help me out, and I’ll complete it. All you have to do is tell me what it is.

  * * *

  He opened his eyes. The winds picked up speed. Lightning spread across the sk
y like a spiderweb. Isaac’s heart raced. Could it really be happening?

  He stepped toward a cliff and saw a shape moving quickly up the side of the mountain. Though much, much smaller than the titans, in the distance, it looked to be larger than an elf or human. It had arms and legs, but there was a fifth appendage that towered over the rest of its body, and it was barbed like a stinger. Like a scorpion. His veins turned to ice.

  Was this Scorpius? He’d assumed Scorpius was one of the titanic, distant figures.

  Suddenly, there was a great flash of light above him, so bright that it sent Isaac staggering backward. Once the image of it had faded from his view, he looked at the dagger again.

  It was glowing blue.

  Saldana had answered his prayer. He ran toward the dagger, his eyes wide. Carefully he touched it, half-expecting it to zap his hand. Instead, it sent a buzzing sensation through his entire body. It felt good. It felt powerful. The moment he grasped it fully and held it up, he felt a promise forge between himself and Saldana, though there was no voice in his ear. Some great favor he would have to return later.

  Isaac shuddered at the sound of rocks collapsing behind him. When he turned to look, the enormous barbed tail—at least a few feet taller than his head—came into view.

  “Shit.”

  A horrible, insectile face emerged from under it, triangular and dark brown with bulging eyes and razor-like mandibles. Below that, a glistening, hard chest of carapace. His arms and legs were muscular and humanoid, though they were lanky and segmented. When Scorpius was fully at his level, he imagined the horrible creature must have been over ten feet tall.

  Gods, what to do now? The dagger was enchanted, but how could he form another portal? He only had a few seconds before Scorpius reached him. Suddenly, the horrible monster stopped its advance fifteen feet away, seeing the glowing dagger in Isaac’s hand.

  “That dagger,” Scorpius’s guttural voice cried out, raspy but powerful. “Where did you get that?”