by C R Langille
“That was installed about fifteen years ago by the National Park Service. It’s somewhat hard to see unless you’re looking for it, but it made it easier to study the dwelling,” Dan said.
As the group moved to the ladder, the sound of bones cracking and popping echoed into the night. Dan spread his wings wide and took to the air.
“I’ll meet you up there,” he said.
Once they were up in the dwelling, Dan turned to Garrett and Randall. He clasped each one on the shoulder and drew them in closer.
“You wanted to come, and now you’re both here. Stay close and pay attention,” Dan stated.
“What’s down there?” Garrett asked.
“The end,” Rusty said, staring into the cave’s opening. “The eventual end of everything.”
“What does that mean?” Randall asked, gripping his shotgun tighter.
“The thing down there, It is very old and isn’t from this universe. It destroys cosmos and leaves death and chaos in its path. It attracts the darkness in everything on another level, unlike anything you can imagine. It will try and lure you, try to tempt you. If you let It in, It will be your end,” Dan said.
“If It gets out, It will consume this solar system and move on as It intended to eons ago,” Rusty said taking off his Chick Magnet hat. He looked at the hat and smiled and then laid it on a rock outside of the cave’s mouth.
“Stay close, don’t listen to anything It says, and if we tell you to run—run,” Dan said.
***
Troy lifted his head as if he listened to something distant. Allison watched as she was dragged upside down through the cavern. Troy flinched as if in pain and watched a new river of blood flow from his nose.
“They’re here,” Troy said through gritted teeth. “Bring her close. I can use some of her life. He has deemed it necessary.”
Trisha brought her forth and threw her to the ground in front of Troy. Troy grabbed Allison’s arm and brought it up to his mouth. Before she could comprehend what he was doing, he sank his teeth deep into her flesh and ripped a large chunk out.
Pain burned through her arm and set her mind on fire. She screamed, falling away from him onto the rock hard ground. She cradled her wounded arm close to her body and backed away from him. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she tried to fight through them. The pain blazed along her arm and made rational thought impossible.
Troy spat the piece of her arm onto the cave floor and opened the book. Once again, the book sensed his motives and opened to the correct page allowing him to see what he wished to see. The words themselves began to glow with the same ember as his eyes. Troy started talking in a whisper, and Allison heard his whispers mix and meld into that of whatever had spoken to her earlier. Moments later, orange veins of burning light pulsed in the rock around them, growing with intensity and power.
Something sizzled on the ground next to her, and it took her a moment to realize it was the piece of her arm that Troy had spit out. It smoked and smoldered like it sat on a hot griddle cooking. After a few moments, the meat broke up and liquefied, rolling in all directions until it was sucked into the glowing veins of the rock wall. Troy stopped his whispers as the last of her torn flesh disappeared into the rock floor.
The veins of light thrummed brightly once more then died down to nothing leaving the rock’s face bare as it was before. The pain in her arm was excruciating, but something else fought for her attention. As Allison clenched her shirt against the wound to staunch the flow of blood, there was a noise coming from further down the tunnel. It started quiet, no louder than a moderate breeze in the trees, but it wasn’t long before the breeze changed into a drumming of feet against rocks—many feet that were getting closer and closer.
Then came the pinpoints of orange light, dozens of them bobbing in the darkness, getting closer with each passing moment.
“What are those?” she asked.
“Behold,” Troy said, throwing his arms out wide.
Dead warriors of a forgotten era came around the corner, coming to a stop before Troy. They wore the accouterments of medieval knights and Native American warriors. Their clothing and armor were in tatters, worn and torn until it was hard to determine what they once had been.
Their bodies were similarly damaged, skin dried and ripped. Some were missing arms. Allison was sitting next to a Templar man-at-arms that was missing the lower portion of his jaw. He looked down at her with glowing eyes the color of ripe pumpkins, his dried and distended tongue lolling about like a snake trying to get into a hole. She shut her eyes and curled up tighter against the wall.
Troy smiled and looked to Trisha. He waved his arms in front of his body towards the mass before him.
“Kill the intruders. The Spirit and the Star must never make it past this point!” Troy said with authority.
The Trisha-thing cackled and ran back toward the surface. The dead warriors followed her without a word. Though they had been dead for centuries, they moved with a deadly agility.
Troy grabbed Allison by the wounded arm and wrenched her to her feet. The pressure aggravated her injury and she screamed in pain, her vision rolling as a wave of nausea crashed into her form. Yet through the pain, something else awakened inside her. Something that had been waiting for a long time. Something that had a little more patience.
“Come on. He grows impatient,” Troy said, pulling her along.
***
Garrett lost track of how long they traveled down into the mountain. He checked the digital numbers on his watch for the first twenty minutes but soon gave up and focused on moving down the crude steps without falling or tripping like Randall had earlier. There had been a sharp turn in the corridor, and everyone had been able to navigate it except Randall. If it weren’t for Rusty’s quick reaction, Randall would have split his head on the rough-hewn stone.
Dan carried a large flashlight which provided enough illumination for everyone, but Garrett was under the impression that neither Dan nor Rusty required the extra lighting. He was glad for the light, and despite Randall’s recent meeting with the steps, Garrett was positive that he appreciated the flashlight’s glow as well.
Garrett wanted to ask questions, but he didn’t feel it was right. Dan led the group in silence, holding the light in one hand and the deadly sword in the other. Rusty brought up the rear and was unusually quiet as well. Garrett wished he would say something funny, anything to lift the wet blanket of tension that was covering the group.
As they continued deeper, Garrett’s thoughts twisted and curdled as he dwelled upon his family. The oppressive silence was pressing on him harder than the dark that threatened to break through Dan’s light. Without something to engage his mind, his family threatened to pull him into that darkness. That’s when the whispers started.
Join them, Garrett. Deeper. Go further and see us.
It was more of a tickle at the nape of his neck than an actual whisper, like something brushing lightly across his back. But it slowly became worse. The whispers grew louder and louder until Garrett put his hands over his ears.
Dan stopped and turned around when Garrett covered his ears. He placed a hand on Garret’s shoulder and the whispers became muffled until they were nothing more than background noise.
“Don’t listen,” Dan said softly. “Rusty, we’re almost at the marker.”
Rusty nodded in response but remained silent. Garrett could tell that the deeper they went, the more stern and rigid Rusty became.
About ten minutes later, they came to a large opening in the tunnel, and the elevation leveled out. Dan shined the light into the middle of the room, and the beam hit a large obsidian monolith covered in strange and esoteric sigils and runes. As the light hit the semi-transparent rock, it washed the room in a dark glow, and the runes began to dance and cavort along the stone wall. At least it seemed that way to Garrett, but whenever he tried to foc
us on one rune it would remain still, yet the sigils in his periphery would tremble and shake, only to lie dormant when he brought his gaze upon them.
“This is old, man,” Rusty said quietly walking closer. “Older than a peanut in petrified dinosaur shit.”
“This was here in the beginning,” Dan said, shining his light around the cavern. “It was corrupted when He crashed into God’s creation.”
“What is it?” Garrett asked.
“It’s a marker. It indicates a major intersection of ley lines,” Dan said.
“What does that mean?” Randall asked.
“Think of them as energy highways, pathways for the natural flow of power in the world, and this is the Grand Central Station for the area,” Rusty said.
Randall moved closer and put his hand up like he was going to touch the stone’s glasslike surface. Garrett thought one of the runes started to tremble as Randall’s fingers got near, but Dan grabbed Randall by the shoulder and pulled him away.
“Don’t touch it,” Dan said.
“Why?” Garrett asked.
“Think about when you touch a burner on a stove or place your hand on live wires. It would be like that, but your body would be like a Jiffy Pop container. You can’t touch something like this without the proper protections,” Rusty said.
“What happened to this one?” Garrett asked taking a step back. Something seemed wrong with the marker. Garrett couldn’t tell what, but he was sure that something was wrong with the monolith’s condition.
“It took the brunt of the fallout from the Dark Tyrant’s violation of this region. It’s been twisted and defiled, and now it interrupts the flow of energy and turns it vile,” Dan said. “These sigils keep this marker’s energy from seeping too far.”
“Yeah, imagine that you were at a concert, and you looked over and saw Hemingway, a grizzly bear, and—” The sound of something coming up the tunnel interrupted Rusty’s visualization.
“Rusty,” Dan said curtly.
“Yep,” Rusty said.
“What is it?” Randall asked, gripping the shotgun tighter.
“The welcoming party,” Rusty said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
November 7, 1180
I can feel a pressure building the deeper we descend into the depths of the mountain. The quiet attacks my nerves almost as much as the battle we endured earlier. We continue to move further and further into the earth, and I can no longer fathom just how far we have ventured. Each step is harder to take; each breath comes with more labor. We move closer to our goal, and although I should be thankful that our quest is almost at an end, I cannot help but listen to the shadows that surround us. Has this all been for naught? Are we to perish in this hellish pit? Can God even hear my prayers while I stand surrounded by all this darkness? All I do know is that soon, it will all be over—one way or another.
-Sir William Brock
Under the Mountain
“This will be fast and violent,” Dan said, readying Ishiel. “Hope you brought a clean pair of underwear.”
Garrett watched as the malignant weapon’s stone pommel pulsed with eager anticipation of the battle to come. Dan was familiar with the weapon, as if it was a natural extension of his arm, each moving in concert.
“You two should stay back and blast anything that gets through. Just be sure not to hit us with any of that buckshot. Stings worse than a Celine Dion song on repeat, man,” Rusty said, smiling.
Dan smiled and nodded at Rusty’s comment. Garrett got the feeling that Dan was just as eager to taste blood as the blade he carried.
“He’s right. Make sure you know what’s in your sight picture, know what’s behind your target,” Dan stated, his grip shifting on the sword’s hilt.
Randall scurried back into the corner of the room. Garrett followed him and made sure the shotgun was ready to fire. He nodded towards Randall and motioned for him to do the same. Randall pushed his glasses up onto his face, setting them back in their rightful place, and engaged the pump-action of the weapon. A loaded shotgun shell flew from the chamber and landed with a dull thud onto the rocky ground. Garrett rolled his eyes and looked back to the tunnel entrance in anticipation while Randall fumbled with reloading the weapon.
Rusty turned his head to Dan and opened his mouth to make another comment, but as he was about to say something, a sound bounced off the tunnel’s carved walls and hit his ear. His ears twitched like a dog’s, and he cocked his head.
“They’re here!” Rusty said in a slow but high-pitched sing-song voice. “Poltergeist. The movie? Anyone?”
Moments later, the thundering sound of feet falling on hard ground echoed into the chamber followed by the wail of the dead. It started off as a low groan but quickly heightened in intensity, warbling through the stone room like a broken loudspeaker. The warble got louder and louder until Garrett watched in horror as a half-decomposed knight with an exposed ribcage burst into the room. His mind raced as he tried to figure out the science behind the thing, but all scientific thoughts went out the window with what happened next.
Ishiel cut the wail short by removing the creature’s head from its shoulders. Garrett thought he could faintly hear the scream still echoing from the sword’s pommel, but he didn’t have time to ponder on it.
A steady stream of undead creatures piled into the room. Dan did his best to bring the creatures down, but there were too many. Rusty grappled with a creature that loosely resembled an ancient Puebloan warrior. The skin on the creature’s hands was worn down to the bone, leaving ragged, bony, fingertips as claws. The thing swiped at Rusty’s head with a speed that defied normal laws. To Garrett and Randall, the creature’s attacks were almost a blur.
Rusty danced and dodged, keeping the creature at arm’s length. He leaped into the air but was grabbed by another undead thing and slammed back into the ground. Rusty tried to roll away, but two Templar warriors pinned him to the floor.
Dan brought his blade through another body and turned to see Rusty on the ground. The momentary distraction cost him. A large Puebloan creature, clutching its amputated arm as a weapon, brought the appendage down on Dan’s head. The blow was solid and strong, and Dan’s vision faded. After a few milliseconds that seemed an eternity, he came to and found himself kneeling on the ground and looking up as the thing brought the arm up for another strike.
***
“He is very interested in meeting you, Allison,” Troy said as they entered a great cavern. “You have something special in you, and He means to use it.”
Allison couldn’t reply; she was too busy drinking in her new surroundings. They had exited the tunnels and entered into a large antechamber. She couldn’t see the roof above and had the sensation that the darkness traveled thousands of feet before hitting any sort of ceiling. A dim orange glow emanated from strange veins in the floor and walls, similar to the pulsating veins of light she’d seen earlier when Troy used the archaic ritual to summon the undead creatures. Once again, she couldn’t help but be reminded of a vascular system.
All of the orange veins led to a central stone nestled in the middle of the room. The stone itself was black as coal; parts of it simmered and burned as if it were smoldering and had been for eons.
A lake of black sludge lay stagnant behind the stone and stretched as far as she could see into the massive room. Allison had seen her share of underground lakes and rivers, but this was by far the largest. It was almost an ocean of slime and corruption. Every so often, something rippled to the surface only to dive back into the opaque depths.
But of all the things she could sense, it was the surreal feeling that bothered her the most. Whatever was here with them in the room was beyond ancient. It was alien, and it made her skin crawl. Allison’s senses rebelled against her subconscious; actions as simple breathing became difficult and required focused thought to accomplish. Something snapped in
her mind, as if somewhere deep down in her psyche something recognized what was in the room with her and would sacrifice anything to get away… even if the sacrifice meant her sanity.
***
Dan watched in slow motion as the thing lifted the arm above its head and brought it crashing down. He tried to spin away, but a deafening roar erupted in the small room, and a full load of buckshot ripped into the creature. The impact was sloppy but still served its purpose, hitting the creature in the shoulder and knocking it off balance. The blast from Garrett’s gun didn’t drop the thing, but it was enough to drive it to its knee and give Dan the extra moment he needed. In a swift motion, Dan sprung to his feet and brought Ishiel up in a sweeping motion. The creature wailed in rage as its other arm flew from its body. Dan spun the blade around again and took its head off.
The shotgun blast spurred Randall into action, and he unloaded his weapon into the horde of undead warriors. Smoke and the metallic smell of expended gunpowder filled the room as the monsters exploded into pieces. Garrett quickly joined the fray, and the pair started cutting their way into the mass of creatures.
Dan ran towards Rusty and chopped at one of the Templar warriors that pinned him down. The blade bit through chainmail, flesh, and bone with ease. Rusty’s face turned feral, and he snarled in rage. Within a second, he shifted forms and twisted away from the remaining Templar as a coyote.
The Templar grabbed at the coyote, but both arms came off as Ishiel sliced through them with ease. With another quick flash of ruddy steel, the Templar joined its brethren in true death.
Rusty bounded away from the Puebloan creature. The thing was fast, but Rusty was quicker in his canine form. With his animal reflexes, he easily dodged and jumped out of the way as the thing snatched, clawed, and struck out at him. Rusty bolted to the left but turned about as the thing started to follow, and in a savage motion Rusty ripped the throat out of the creature and dragged its body to the floor. Dan took advantage of the moment and took its head off in a clean sweep.