The Gate of the Feral Gods

by Matt Dinniman

  “Carl,” Katia said, sounding alarmed. “That’s not going to work. You’ll kill him.”

  “You’re not getting in there anyway,” Mordecai said. “His head is solid rock. The parasite is in his brain. Not riding it like a backpack.”

  “Goddamnit. Why am I the only one trying to come up with a solution? What the hell are we going to do?” I said.

  But I knew. We all knew. And that weight was getting heavier by the moment.

  You can’t save them all.

  Carl: Imani, I’m sorry.

  She didn’t answer, which made me feel even worse. I put my hand on his rocky shoulder. It was hot, but not unbearable.

  “Hey, Chris. I know you can’t respond anymore, but your brother wanted me to tell you that he loved you, and he regretted not telling you that. He died protecting his friends. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

  “Carl,” Katia said, putting her own hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have a skull yet. I do. Let me do it.”

  “No,” I said, forming my fist. “Everyone get back.”

  “Be careful,” Mordecai said. “Once he dies, the infiltrator will still be alive. She’ll burrow out of his head. She’ll try to get into someone else.”

  “Not the way I’m going to kill him,” I said.

  The small group all took several steps back. It was just me and Donut standing over the prone form of Chris. We had twenty seconds left.

  “Carl?” Donut asked from my shoulder.

  “What?”

  “Don’t be mad at me.”

  A large hole opened up in the street, revealing a shimmering force field that separated this quadrant from the next. The form of Chris plummeted through the hole and disappeared, landing loudly into the dark chamber below. There was a splash.

  I only fell about a foot, landing on the shimmering air. I stood upon the forcefield like it was glass, looking down upon it with surprise.

  “You best step out of the hole, or your feet will get chopped off when I turn the spell off,” Donut said. “Daddy wouldn’t like that very much.”

  “Goddamnit, Donut. What the fuck?”

  “You’re not a killer, Carl,” Donut said as the spell snapped off. “Not a person killer, at least. You get all weird about killing NPCs. How do you think it’s going to affect you to kill one of your friends? I’m not going to let it happen. I can’t have you being all mopey.”

  “He was asking for our help, Donut. Now she’s gotten away and Chris is still… Goddamnit, you shouldn’t have done that. That was a mistake.”

  “Look at the map. He’s not getting out of that room. And if they do get out, we’ll be prepared for them. Katia has the find crawler skill. She’ll see them sneaking up on us. Maybe.”

  I took a deep, angry breath. I was angry with Donut, but I was also angry with myself for being so desperately relieved at what she’d done.

  I looked at the map for the subterranean level. Sure enough, there was a honeycomb system of rooms directly below the streets. The entrance to the catacomb wasn’t a level plane, but it went up and down in a toothed pattern. Chris and Maggie were stuck in a bubble. They had solid rock all around them. They could go back up through the street. Or they could go down, though that looked like another sealed off chamber. They’d have to break through two walls to get to the closest walkway—a walkway that was likely filled with water.

  “Mordecai, can he get out of there with his race abilities?”

  “Maybe,” he said, shaking his head. “He can excrete lava, but it cools rapidly. It’s not effective against rock. There are spells like Donut’s Hole and dozens of others that help people make their way through rock. I don’t know what either of them have. He’ll be able to use both of their abilities and spells. He might be able to smash through with time. It sounded like there was water in there. He can breathe underwater, but if the chamber fills, it’ll hinder their progress.”

  “Wait, really?” I said. “He can breathe underwater?”

  “Yes. Both of them can, actually. Infiltrators are aquatic like most brain parasites. An igneous can survive in most environments. They’re very hardy.”

  “If there’s water, there’s steam,” Katia said. “He might be able to blow his way out.”

  “That doesn’t sound very safe,” I said.

  “If that crazy lady is suicidal, then maybe it won’t matter,” she replied.

  I felt relief at the idea, of Maggie somehow killing them both. Then I felt shame for feeling that way.

  While we talked, Donut was giving a running commentary in the chat to Elle and Imani.

  Imani: Thank you, Donut. Once you defeat all four castles, you can go back, incapacitate them again, bring them through the portal, and then your game guide can make a potion to save Chris.

  I took a deep breath. That was… a very dangerous idea. It was a dumb idea. Katia only had three of the paralyze bolts left, which meant we’d have three minutes to get them to the stairwell. That simply wasn’t going to happen. Maggie had just tried to unleash the god of pain on me. She was too dangerous to let free. We were being used like pawns in a royal pissing match between a brother and sister, who in turn were being exploited by the whole system while the entire universe laughed their asses off at us all.

  Yes, being in the spotlight was good. But we needed to break ourselves free from this Skull Empire bullshit. It would catch up to us sooner rather than later.

  “Mordecai,” I said. “We have to find a way to separate him from the worm before the floor ends. Go to the market and see if you can find those potion supplies now. I’ll put the word out and see if anybody has what we need.”

  I went into my interface. I found the little needle that indicated the current stream watchers. I cycled through a few views and settled on one that didn’t show actual numbers, but it ticked the needle up when more than average were watching. I placed it in the corner right above my airspeed and elevation tickers. I had another thought.

  Carl: Also, Mordecai. I was wrong before about something. I want you to take some money and buy Donut that environmental upgrade. The one that shows us a running commentary of our social media comments.

  Donut: YAY!

  Mordecai: You know it’s heavily moderated by the AI, right?

  Carl: That’s okay. The more information, the better.

  I pointed to Juice Box. “You,” I said. “Let’s sit down right now and talk. But we gotta make it quick. We’re going to take out that last castle once it gets dark.”

  “We still need to sleep, Carl,” Donut said.

  “We can sleep when we’re dead.”

  15

  “So,” I said to Juice Box. “Henrik is your brother?”

  She nodded. “He’s what we call a Principal. People say they’re a cult, obsessed with cataloging all known species. But that’s not true. They’re looking for just one. And they think they’ve found it.”

  Donut: LONELY_YETI_15 SAYS I HAVE THE PRETTIEST FUR PATTERN SHE HAS EVER SEEN. SHE ALSO SAYS SHE’S GETTING A TATTOO OF ME ON HER LOWER THORAX.

  Carl: You’re supposed to be helping Katia sew.

  Donut: I DON’T HAVE THUMBS, CARL.

  I shook my head and returned my attention to Juice Box. She remained in her human form, but she’d made herself bald for some reason. We sat in the Spit and Swallow, which was filled with camels taking a quick breather from their frantic work to repair the town before the next impending sand storm.

  “So this Quetzalcoatlus creature is what they’re looking for?” I asked.

  “That’s what I’m getting at, yes. Problem is she’s a ghost.”

  “And that’s why you took over the guards in charge of the gnome hostage. You needed to get to Wynne. You needed to get to him because he had the ability to make her temporarily corporeal, which would allow your brother to touch her and gain the ability to turn into her.”

  “Yes.” She paused, staring off as a group of grim-faced dromedarians got up and left, on their way back to wor
k. “I didn’t want any part of it. I thought it was disrespectful after they took us in. Still, I would have helped him sooner had I know the Hunting Grounds were accessible, that this was something that could actually be accomplished. Had I helped, perhaps we would have avoided all of this.”

  “Your brother was torturing the gnome,” I said. “Something tells me you wouldn’t have been on board with that.” She didn’t answer, so I continued. “But the gnome is dead, and Quetzalcoatlus is still a ghost. They’ve gone into the maze anyway. What do you think they’re going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Henrik is desperate.”

  “And why are they trying to find her? What’s so special about her?”

  Juice Box sighed. “She is, or was, a type of creature that doesn’t normally live in these lands. She has a special ability to cast a spell. She can alter plants. Like her, my people aren’t from this place. Our bodies have adapted, but not fully. With each generation, defects appear. It is happening more and more.”

  I thought of that changeling girl, Ruby. The one with the missing arms and the sunken-in head.

  “Compression sickness,” I said.

  “Yes,” Juice Box replied. “One out of every four births is now sick. The ones born with it are sterile. My brother believes if he can obtain the spell, he can create a food source that will give us the necessary vitamins that will stave off future birth defects.”

  “What about the Gate of the Feral gods? Before, you said it was a myth.”

  She waved her hand and then took a long drink. She reminded me of Elle with the amount of alcohol she consumed. “I lied. It is no myth, but it is dangerous. Using it was always the backup plan, but it was even more desperate of an idea than the plan to give flesh to Quetzalcoatlus. Plus, even my brother didn’t want to resort to using it. He is not that cruel.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The artifact has three parts. My brother has one piece, which he stole from the dromedarians. The gnomish Commandant has the second, and the third is on the surface in the hands of the mad mage. Two pocket watches and a winding box. When they’re put together, the gate can be opened.”

  I had already guessed most of this, but I still didn’t know the most important part. “And what can they do with the gate?”

  “It’s simple, really. One can open a gate from one place to the next. But it comes with a cost. It rips a hole into the depths of the Nothing. So when the gate finally closes, an ancient, feral god comes through into the world.”

  “A feral god? Which side does it come through? The side where the gate is opened or the side where the gateway leads?”

  “The opening side. Which is why even my brother doesn’t wish to use it. We can go home, but it would bring devastation to this world.”

  “I don’t even know what a feral god is,” I said.

  Juice Box shivered. “They are the gods from before. The immortal beasts who roamed the heavens before the pantheon banished them into the Nothing and created the world. Their banishment has driven them mad.”

  There was a moment there, when the air suddenly felt electric. I now knew exactly what that feeling meant, what was about to happen.

  New Quest. The Gate of the Feral Gods.

  Henrik the Changeling. Commandant Kane. The Mad Dune Mage. They all have pieces of the artifact. Take it from them. Collect all three. Put them together.

  What happens next is pretty damn neat.

  Reward: Oh boy-oh-boy.

  Oh boy-oh-boy.

  The sandstorm came, and we hunkered down in the personal space. Despite the valiant efforts of the townsfolk to prepare the city for the storm, their efforts weren’t enough. The moment the winds came, the not-yet-finished shield ripped away, forcing everyone inside. The town would be buried in sand by the time the storm was done.

  The moment the shield failed, we all received a quest to “save” the town by procuring a bunch of deflated balloons that they could use as a shelter. It was a regular, bronze quest that I shoved off on Louis and Firas and Langley, who’d finished searching the ruins of the other town. They could use the experience.

  They had spent the remainder of the day grinding and picking up loot. There was no sign of any surviving bactrians except one in a single saferoom bar. The group had also managed to secure an intact, gnomish Drop Bear airplane. The pilot was nowhere to be found. They dragged the machine to the edge of the other town and covered it with a tarp.

  Down on the land quadrant, Gwen’s team had finally managed to breach all the walls, but now they faced the main entrance to the castle, which was magically locked. They were currently trying to figure out how to get in. The mage still hadn’t shown himself.

  The tomb raiders were stuck in saferooms. The entire catacomb was now filled with water. They had dozens of water scrolls, but that wasn’t enough. They were paralyzed for now.

  Chris/Maggie remained entombed. Donut could see their dot on the map as long as she stood nearby. The room was half-filled with water and was pitch black, which had to be awful. We set Mordecai to work. He needed something called vile dill for his potion. He hadn’t found it yet. He was seeking an alternative using the store interface and by talking to folks at the Desperado Club.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about how horrible this had to be for Chris. Being helpless was one thing, but what he was currently enduring was just too much. The more I thought about it, the more I regretted not putting him out of his misery.

  I understood what Donut had done. Hell, if I had thought of it, I would’ve done the same thing. Still, it felt like the wrong decision. It was the easy way out, and in this place, the easy way usually came with dire consequences.

  But I had push all of that out of my mind and focus at the task at hand: capturing the gnomish throne room.

  Here’s what we knew. After we’d crashed the Wasteland, all that remained was a single building held aloft by an enormous, magical balloon. The building was a house, nothing more. There were no obvious defenses. The entire gnomish airforce was now grounded. It appeared there were only two living creatures up there. Commandant Kane and his daughter. The kid was about ten years old. That was it.

  Once the sandstorm ended, we had two hours before it got dark. All around, camels emerged and started digging the town free. I pulled the farseer and searched until I found the small house, which has settled high above. It floated all the way to the top of the bubble, like a children’s balloon that had gotten away from a kid and was now wedged in a high ceiling.

  “We can still try shooting it down,” Katia said, standing by my side.

  “We could,” I agreed. “It’s probably the easier way to do it. But I want to get that pocket watch. And if it falls now, I’m afraid it’ll land outside the bowl. Then what would we do?”

  “You also don’t want to hurt that kid,” Katia said. “I think I know you well enough by now.”

  I nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “They do that on purpose, you know. It’s no accident they put a child up there.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “But they should also know by now my stance on killing NPCs. I don’t want to do it, but I think they’re better off dead anyway. So I won’t hesitate if my hand is forced. Even if it’s a kid.”

  We stood side by side for several silent moments.

  “Did you ever want children?” Katia finally asked.

  I turned to look at the woman, surprised at the question. I knew she’d had some painful issues with this subject, but I didn’t know the details.

  “No,” I said. “I wouldn’t be a good dad. Bea told me she thought she was pregnant like ten times. She never was. The first few times, when I thought she really was, I was goddamned terrified.”

  “I… I have trouble seeing you with that woman.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I can’t have children.” She paused, looking down at herself. “When I was human, I mean. I was going to adopt. You can do that in Iceland when you’re single. I got pre
-approval. I was on the list. That’s all I ever wanted. Something happened, and I got disqualified. It’s not important. But I’m glad now. I keep thinking about that Maggie woman, and how twisted she’s become. It’s because she’s a mother. Losing everything can do that to you. I can’t help but wonder how different things would be for me if I had a child. I’m glad now I don’t.”

  The way she said it, I knew she wasn’t being truthful. It wasn’t something I would ever understand, the need to have children. I said nothing.

  “Anyway,” Katia continued. “I still think we should just blow it out of the sky.”

  “You’re just mad you’re not going to get the chance to go skydiving again,” I said, putting the telescope away.

  “Usually, I get irritated when you want to leave me behind on your little schemes,” Katia said. “I’m pretty happy to sit this one out.”

  I patted her on the shoulder.

  It was time to go. Behind me, Donut emerged from the bar, followed by Mongo and another robot Donut. The toy company had sent her three more, two of which had been promptly destroyed by Mongo. This fourth one was supposedly more durable. It’d survived one attack, but the head was now scarred from Mongo teeth.

  “Come on, Donut,” I said. “Let’s roll.”

  The robot version jumped onto my shoulder. This one was significantly heavier than the last. It turned its head toward me. “There sure were a lot of babies in there, Carl,” the toy said. “I wonder how long they will continue to cry in the dark.”

  “Get the hell off of me.” I pushed it from my shoulder, and it landed on its back with a crunch. Mongo was on it in a second, grabbing it by the neck and shaking. The head ripped, and a countdown timer appeared over the toy.

  “Goddamnit,” I said. “Everyone get back.”

  We all scrambled away. The toy exploded in a shower of sparks and smoke. It wasn’t a big explosion, but it would’ve hurt if we’d been closer. It was enough to leave a scorch mark all over the front of the Spit and Swallow.