“It’s a prescription sleeping pill for evil gods,” Yuri said. “I dig it.”
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Artem said.
“Well, the creature in question can fight it,” Barnabas said. “Which is why, in that first fight, the wizard didn’t just, y’know, hocus pocus, zippity doo da, put a hex on that thing and knock him out for a thousand years.”
“He needs to be distracted,” Echo said.
“Yes,” Barnabas said. He pointed at the Needle of the Moon. “Which is where that comes in.”
“I’m going to poke him until he gives up?” Echo said.
Barnabas cocked his head curiously.
“Y’know, that’s not entirely inaccurate,” he said. “But that’s a mythical weapon. It was made by hands not of this world. So, when you strike with that, particularly if you strike a creature of evil or dark intent, it causes all the more harm.”
“Again, I think there’s a ‘but’ you haven’t said yet,” Artem said.
Barnabas nodded.
“Right. You can’t just goose his rump with it. You’re not going to like this part.”
“Do I like any part?” Echo said. “There’s an ocean full of man-eating fish-men a hundred yards from us and we’re about to try to kill Squidzilla with a marble and a stick. There is no part of this I like, so you might as well pile on.”
Barnabas winced.
“You’re going to want to poke the creature in the brain with that,” he said.
“I’m going to want to what it in the where?” Echo said. She whipped her head around to look at the monster, still stomping slowly toward the coast, rising taller and taller out of the water with each step.
“In the brain,” Barnabas said. “Or at least that’s what worked last time. The Eye demands the creature sleep; the creature, in turn, uses its psychic will to fight against the Eye. A hot poker to the brain is a really effective way to put him back on his heels during a psychic duel.”
“He’s enormous,” Echo looked up at the creature’s head, towering high above. “What’s that, a two-hundred-foot climb?”
“Two hundred now,” Artem said. “And rising.”
“So we need to move quickly,” Orithyia said.
Echo’s mouth hung open, half in frustration, half with the mind-blown realization she was going to have to scale a titanic monster and stab him in the brain.
“Well, okay then?” Echo said questioningly. “I guess I’ll start climbing?”
“What about the fish-men?” Yuri said. “Won’t they try to stop us?”
“What’s this ‘us’ you speak of,” Echo said. “You’re not going up there.”
“Oh, yes I am,” Yuri said. “First of all, I basically can’t die. Second of all, while I was never much of a climber, I happen to think that because my hands grow what amounts to a pickaxe at the tip of each finger when I transform, so when you need to climb a mountain of meat, I might be pretty useful getting you up there.”
“That is possibly the grossest thing you’ve ever said, and you are absolutely not wrong,” Echo said.
“Did you just say a mountain of meat?” Barnabas said.
“I did,” Yuri said.
“God, I missed you, you weird bastard,” Barnabas said.
“I’ll go as well,” Artem said. When Echo started to protest, he cut her off. “I can climb better than any of you, I can fight with either hand, and I am really enjoying killing these fish-men. Let me be your rear guard, Echo. You need to focus on climbing, not fighting.”
“I’ll go as well, I…” Orithyia said, then let out a sharp gasp and clutched her side.
“General,” one of the Amazons said, putting a hand quickly to Orithyia’s abdomen. Her fingers came away bloody. “You’re injured.”
“It’s fine,” Orithyia said. It was only then that Echo saw the bags beneath her eyes like bruises. The dark stain to her armored pants she assumed before was just seawater.
Echo was shocked to hear Artem’s voice. It was something she hadn’t heard from him in a long time, soft and gentle, worried.
“Mom,” he said. “When did this happen?”
“During the fight on the ship,” she said. “Look at all of you. You’re all bloodied as well. There are others in far worse…”
She let out a sharp cough then, and Echo could see from the way her body trembled that the general was masking a much worse injury than she let on.
“You’ll never make it if you come with us,” Artem said. He shot a look to Barnabas, who picked up on it instantly. My boys, Echo thought, the pride she felt in this ragtag group giving her a little bit of hope. They act like they hate each other, but the three of them have always looked out for the others.
“We need you here, general,” Barnabas said.
“I can keep up this invisibility spell a little longer, but the moment our people disembark, we’ll likely be spotted,” Muireann said.
“Barnabas, bravado aside… without the three of us, can you repel an attack?” Echo said. “Don’t give me your tough wizard routine. I see two Amazons too injured to fight, and you need to be able to cast whatever mojo you need to do with the Eye.”
“We’ll keep the ship safe,” one of the Amazons said proudly even as she wrapped a bandage around a nasty tear in her forearm.
“Echo, if the creatures come near the Endless, the ship will defend itself,” Barnabas said. Something about his tone chilled Echo in a way she’d never experienced before.
“What do you mean, defend itself?” Echo said.
“This is a haunted ship, Echo. The spirits here are kind to us because we give them what they want. This ship is their only tether to the world they have departed from. If anything tries to hurt this ship, I pity the world of unearthly fury these restless spirits will inflict on them,” Barnabas said.
“You sound like you’re afraid of the ship,” Artem said curiously.
“I’m terrified of this ship,” Barnabas said. “Have you ever noticed how nice I am to it?”
“I have had more strange conversations since I met the group of you than I’ve had in total my entire life,” Muireann said. “And I’m not even human.”
“So, captain, what are your orders?” Barnabas said.
“I guess we bring the ship around and try not to die,” Echo said.
“Good plan. Very inspirational. I can see why you’re in charge,” Yuri said.
Chapter 51: Punch Cthulhu in the face
The Endless sailed right up alongside the behemoth, seemingly undetected. Yuri had his doubts about that. He wondered if, somehow, those thirteen eyes they could see glowing hundreds of feet above them had seen the ship’s approach and determined them to be a non-threat, just a bunch of lunatics in a wooden boat in a rush to die.
They were close enough to smell it now, the reek of rot, dead fish and vegetation, a musky, pungent animal stench that made his eyes water. It was the smell of something that bathed in death, that slept in filth, that was a part of the darkest of places. Yuri fought off a wave of nausea and studied the thick hide, now so close he could almost reach out and touch it. We really could climb it, he thought, looking at the uneven, wrinkled skin. There’s no shortage of handholds. We’ll be like bugs crawling up a human’s leg.
“One upside,” Yuri said. “That gut of his is pretty noticeable. We’re not climbing a flat vertical surface. Good thing he doesn’t work out.”
“Your optimism is, as always, appreciated, if probably misplaced,” Artem said. “Where do we even start?”
“I have an idea,” Yuri said. He pulled off his shirt and began ripping it into strips.
“I’m almost afraid to ask where you’re going with this,” Echo said.
“Wrap these around your hands,” Yuri said. “Make yourself gloves with the cloth.”
“Oh,” Echo said.
“Absolutely not,” Artem said, instantly understanding. “Leave me my last shred of dignity, Yuri.”
�
��I’ll transform. The two of you hop on. I can at least get you part of the way up there,” Yuri said. “Once we get over the ridge of his stomach, the ground will be flatter and you can climb without me, but this will at least get you a head start.”
“This is a terrible idea,” Artem said.
“But it’ll work,” Echo said. “You can carry us both?”
“I’m stupidly strong in shark form,” Yuri said. He waited until both of his companions had wrapped their hands from wrist to fingertip. “Just be careful. My skin’s like sandpaper when I transform.”
“I figured that was what the hand wraps were for,” Echo said. “We’ll try not to get rug burn.”
Yuri bowed his head and let the monster flow through him, feeling his muscles swell, his bones creak and pop, his jaw widen into a monstrous cavern. He doubled in size and weight, a hulking, beastly predator in his own right, tail casually swaying from side to side. He lowered his frame so that Echo and Artem could climb on his back, one on each side of his dorsal fin, and then, with a leap far easier than it should have been for a creature of his size, Yuri jumped from the edge of the ship to the side of the giant monster.
He landed with a disconcerting thud, but he was ready to react right away, claws on each hand spread wide to grab hold of the uneven, green-black flesh of the colossus. The flesh wobbled beneath him, but the creature itself did not seem to react to the intrusion, at least not immediately. Yuri dug the claws on his toes in as well, gaining better purchase, and he began to climb, only moderately encumbered by the weight of his friends.
Neither said a word. The stench of the creature was overwhelming this close up; its blood was tacky, which, while uncomfortable, made the climb easier, letting Yuri get a better grip rather than slip.
Like an athlete climbing a rock wall in a gym, Yuri worked his way higher, trying not to think about what he was digging his hands into. Finally, the surface seemed to curve like a dome, becoming less vertical. He felt painfully far from the water, but dared not look down to see how far the plunge would be if he slipped.
“We’ve got company,” Artem said.
“Don’t let go yet,” Echo said.
Finally, Yuri crested over the archway of the creature’s stomach, providing his companions somewhere to put their feet. Strange, Yuri thought, that the creature hadn’t done anything to stop them. Were they just insects to him? Were they nothing to bother with?
Or, Yuri realized, seeing a swarm of fish-men climb up over the creature’s gut, he’s going to let his parasites do the work for him.
“I’ve got this,” Artem said, dropping from Yuri’s back to stand on the creature’s sloping gut. He drew both swords and assumed a fighting stance.
“Artem, don’t,” Echo said
“This is what I came along for the ride to do, Echo,” Artem said. “Yuri, get her as high as you can. I’ll buy you some time.”
Yuri felt Echo grab hold of his shoulder tighter, but said nothing. Instead, Yuri continued this ascent, still shocked that the giant creature hadn’t even looked at them. Below, he heard the sounds of Artem’s blades whistling and striking true, but there was no looking back. Just climbing ever higher, one arm over the other. As a were-shark, Yuri felt almost tireless. At this height, carrying not one but two people, the lactic acid should have built up in his arms by now, his muscles should be aching, but no, he just kept going, as relentless as the predator he took his shape from.
It wasn’t until they reached mid-chest that the creature finally turned its gaze on them.
That massive head swiveled around in what seemed like slow motion, long tendrils hanging from its chin and jaw, dripping seawater down in buckets. All thirteen eyes turned their focus on them, unblinking, staring for what felt like an eternity.
It lifted its right arm as if preparing to strike.
“Go!” Yuri said, his own voice sluggish and alien in this form, sounding nothing like himself. I sound like a monster when I look like this, he thought. But I can also fight like one.
Echo didn’t wait: she hopped up onto Yuri’s shoulder and sprang up higher, using the Needle for leverage, tossing herself even further up the creature’s chest, where the skin faded from black-green to mucus yellow. She darted around a large curve of muscle and out of sight.
Now, Yuri thought, I can unleash the monster.
He opened his jaw wide and clamped down on the creature’s skin, tearing a huge, bloody chunk from its stomach. Like a demon, he began clawing away, ripping and shredding. The giant being reached for him, but instead of punching, it grabbed hold, taking Yuri’s oversized body in its grasp. He held on though, forcing the monstrosity to tear its own flesh as it peeled him away, sending a cloud of syrupy blood spraying out into the night sky. Its grip was immensely powerful, crushing Yuri’s body beneath thick, bony fingers, but that just meant Yuri could turn his rage upon those fingers as well. With tooth and claw he tore into the creature’s digits until he found yellow-white bone, covering himself in its blood, blood that smelled like seawater and death, blinding him as it got in his eyes.
It tried to change its grip, to crush him, to rip him in half, but Yuri could tell that the colossus could no longer properly move two of its fingers, the index finger—longer than Yuri was tall—down to the bone, the tendons torn to ribbons, leaving a useless digit barely hanging on. He kicked at its palm, feeling his clawed toes biting in, sending gouts of blood flowing like a fountain, and then, only then, did the creature finally make a sound. Yuri would carry that sound to his grave, a haunting, wordless bellow, the sound of madness and eternity, and he wondered if it would have driven him mad if he weren’t half-insane already as the were-shark took over.
He acted on pure instinct now, slashing, tearing, brutalizing the immortal thing’s entire hand. It occurred to Yuri in the distant space where his conscious mind hid while the shark rampaged that this was the hand of a god, that it had existed for millennia. And that he alone had scarred it, maimed it beyond recognition.
The air around him swirled with a powerful gust of wind, and Yuri could not understand what was happening at first. He expected to die, or to go unconscious or to plunge into the ocean, but where was this air coming from? What was happening?
The creature released its crushing, suffocating grip on Yuri and then he knew exactly what had happened.
He threw me, Yuri thought as he hurtled through the air like a cannonball. He couldn’t kill me, so he threw me aside. I made an immortal monster panic and swat me like a bug.
He laughed silently as the world became a blur of stars and sea and ever approaching earth, and he laughed until the wind was knocked from his massive, indestructible body as it struck wood and dirt and stone.
And for a little while, everything went dark and silent.
Chapter 52: Holding the line
Artem watched his companions continue to scale the hide of the colossus and turned his attention to the gathering fish-men, scaling their master’s skin like a defense system, like a disease. What were you, Artem thought, studying them in greater detail than ever before. Their bodies were more human than not, if you could look past their faces with those wide, impossible jaws. Their proportions were unnatural, large hands and feet made for swimming, long, lean limbs, but the musculature, the shape of them, they felt so familiar. And certainly, to his fighter’s eye, they were vulnerable in all the ways humans were. He could see where his blade would pierce chest or skull easiest; creases where he knew pivotal tendons existed to maim or cripple them.
There were just shy of a dozen now, staring at him, hissing, but not moving forward. They weren’t afraid, Artem sensed. No, they had a pack mentality, and they were looking for a way to surround him, hard to do with their monstrous god’s sunken chest to Artem’s back.
This is what life will always be like, he thought, loosening his arms, swinging his blades. This is the world we’ve been given. Stop a war, unleash a monster. Stop a monster and what then? Capture a thief, kill a father. Sa
ve a young woman in need of shelter, lose your lover to violence. Is this what a good life is? A cycle of punishments for doing the right thing?
I think Merrick knew that all along, he thought, remembering conversations with his husband before he fell. I wonder if that’s why he never left the Island of Unwanted Things. He didn’t want me to leave, either. Maybe he knew the world outside was nothing but cruelty to anyone who did the right thing. And still it found us. The world came to our door. And we did the right thing.
Artem assumed a battle stance and waited.
I wish I could stop myself from doing the right thing, he thought. But I can’t.
“Come on!” he yelled at the fish-men, who startled at the sound of his voice, then charged at him, broad feet slapping against the fleshy surface beneath them.
Artem pushed all doubts out of his mind, as he always did in combat. He became nothing more than an instrument of his weapons, his eyes seeing every flaw in his opponents, blade striking home again and again. He opened one creature’s throat with a flick of a sword, sending a spray of blood into the eyes of another. He used that distraction to take off its head with his other sword, spinning to plunge the first blade into the heart of a third monster.
They gathered closer around him, so Artem instinctually backed up toward the chest of the colossus. He kicked one fish-man in the knee, caving in its leg, and finishing it off with a sword to through the eye. With his off-hand he pierced yet another’s torso, slicing upward as one would gut a fish. Feeling himself surrounded, he leveraged himself up and over, using the giant monster’s wrinkled skin like steps, leaping behind the circle of white-gray fish-men.
He watched stoically as one of the living creatures began feasting on the remains of a dead one, but in the heat of battle, his repulsion was a distant thought in the back of his mind. Instead, he used the distraction to cave that creature’s skull in from behind.
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