Ghosts of Korath

by Jake Stone

  Chun Hei digs her blade into one of the attacking demons, piercing it right between the eyes, and the red light within it slips through the wound, rising into the air and disappearing into the rocky ceiling above.

  Zorel, on the other hand, is struggling. She swings in wide arcs, barely grazing the torsos of the rising monsters. Like all great warriors with special abilities, her power has become her crutch. Now that it’s gone, she must learn to fight like the rest of us.

  Sword in hand, I rush into the fray, parrying one of the demon’s attacks as it tries to sink its claws into Zorel’s back.

  The monster’s hand flies through the air, landing somewhere off in the distance, and its owner curls in retreat with an angry sneer.

  “Need some help?” I ask, standing next to her. I feel the touch of her naked body as our backs touch, and for a moment, I’m distracted from the surrounding danger.

  “Perfect timing,” she says.

  She swings her blade at one of the monsters, impressively slicing off its nose. As a Battle Saint, her skill with a sword far surpasses any of the best duelists in the Republic army. But the demons we face are on another level.

  They’re unnaturally fast and tremendously strong. Each one would require a platoon of hardened veterans to bring it down. Already I can see the cuts and scratches along her voluptuous body, bleeding profusely into the water.

  “They don’t stop,” she says.

  “Well, I guess we’d better kill more of them.”

  Turning on the monsters behind us, I ward them back with the swings of my blade. They draw back and form a circle around us, their long tongues curling from their slitted mouths as they study me through pulsing eyes.

  They attack in tandem, using each other as distractions as they tear at my skin with their claws. We can’t remain like this. We need to bring the attack to them.

  “Don’t die,” I say to Zorel.

  “Where in the hell are you going?” she asks.

  “To kill these motherfuckers.”

  I rush out with a scream, racing for the one on the left. According to the teachings of the Battle Saints, warriors who are outnumbered should never defend. They must always be on the attack, chasing the larger and overconfident opponents into disarray.

  The demon I choose freezes under my assault, and I’m able to leap onto its back, where I cling to its neck.

  “Get off me!” it seethes.

  “Sorry, but no chance.” I plunge the tip of my sword into the back of its skull, choosing to leave it there, so as to keep the demon alive for a moment.

  The demon does what I expect and begins to panic, thrashing about, bumping into its brothers and hurting them in the process.

  When I’m close enough to the next one, I rip out my blade from the demon’s head and jump onto it, repeating the process.

  The scales are rough against my balls, but the enjoyment I feel from ending these assholes distract me from the pain. When I finally reach the last one, it pleads with me to let it go.

  “Please,” it asks in a pathetic whine. “I can help you. I can tell you where you need to go.”

  But I don’t listen to it. Demons are liars. And they should all be killed.

  “No thanks, asshole.” I plunge my blade into its skull, and I feel the strength of its body wilting beneath me.

  When I hit the water, I see that the women have formed a tiny circle in the middle of the lake where they’re holding off another wave of demons.

  “Want some company?” I ask.

  “Where’s the girl?” Petronelous asks.

  “Gone,” I answer. “Left us the second the demons appeared.”

  “I knew it,” Atia says. “She had traitor written all over the second I saw her.”

  “You don’t trust anyone,” I say.

  “No,” she admits. “Least of all your judgment.”

  “Are you guys seriously going to start right now?” Zorel asks.

  I take a deep breath, shoving down my resentment. There are more important things to worry about right now, like surviving. “Any ideas?”

  “We need to make it to the shore,” Atia says. “But even then I don’t think we’d be free of them.”

  “Agreed,” I say.

  “What about zapping them with Zorel’s energy?” Petronelous asks.

  “You’d all have to make it to the shore first,” Zorel replies.

  “Our only hope is to fight,” Atia says.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I agree with Atia,” I say.

  We close ranks as the aqua demons tighten around us, their red eyes glowing with heated anticipation. Then, suddenly, from out of the deep, another form rises. It’s much bigger than the others, and instead of a toothy grin, its mouth looks like the tentacles of an octopus.

  The other demons pull back in reverence for the monster, making a path for it as it stomps toward us. I feel like I’m looking at a demi-god, some type of supernatural being that was long forgotten in the times of the world’s creation.

  “Hold your position,” Atia tells us.

  I do as she says. But it’s hard. Every atom of my body wants to lash out at the monster, to swing my blade at its octopus-like face and slash its throat. But I don’t. Breaking ranks with the girls would put them in jeopardy. So I stand my ground, watching, heart pounding as the demon approaches us.

  When the demon finally speaks, I’m hit with the baritone of a large horn blaring in the void. “Who dares trespass the waters of my mistress?”

  Mistress? I exchange a glance with Atia, our confusion reflected in each other’s eyes.

  “What mistress?” I call out.

  “The lady of the mountain, the witch of Korath, we serve her in all things.”

  Witch of Korath? What’s he talking about?

  “To hell with your witch,” Atia declares, her brow knitted in determination. “We are Battle Saints, followers of the corfew and defenders of humanity. Bow before us and recant your sins and we will reward you with quick deaths.”

  “Damnit, Atia,” I whisper to her. “Do you always have to be so pious?”

  “Yes,” Petronelous replies for her.

  The demon lets out a deep and hollow laugh, and I feel my chest tightening in fear. Its hands are clawless, but each one is big enough to grasp any of us by the waist and crush us to death.

  “There will be no recanting of sins,” the demon says. “Only death.”

  We stand back as the demon waves its minions forward, passing its sentence of death upon us. The demons slowly crowd around us, their claws reaching out for us, their jaws snapping. All the fires of hell seem to be pouring out of their eyes, and I can feel my muscles tensing as they yearn to strike.

  The demons are already upon us, when I hear a woman’s voice from the bank of the lake.

  “Get down!” it yells.

  I turn to see Tora standing by the lake, her face masked with trembling fear as she stretches out her hands.

  We duck as one, dipping our heads into the water. Eyes squinted, I look up at the surface, amazed to find a wave of fire flooding over us like a burning wind.

  The demons’ bodies begin to fall around us, drifting through the water like battered sailboats. As I look closer, I see that their bodies are nothing but charred corpses, floating disgustingly around us.

  Soon, the water fills with the inky mix of black blood and green bile, but we don’t dare lift our heads. We stay there holding our breaths, staring upward at the surface until the fire stops and the roaring ceases. Only then do we rise from the water to peak.

  The breath I take is long and deep. Even with our increased lung capacity, we were under for so long that I was verging on the edge of passing out. The demons are gone, and the body of the octopus-faced demi-god is lying face-first in the water, its back barely hovering above the shimmering surface.

  They’re all dead. All of them. Killed by….

  I search for Tora. She’s lying on the ground, passed out.
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  “Tora!”

  The women and I rush toward the bank, where I kneel at her side, slipping a hand behind her head, and lifting it up gently to get a better look at her.

  She blinks as she sees me. “Xander?”

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She turns her head to the lake, her eyes growing wide at the destruction she’s just caused, then passes out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I knew it!” Zorel says, staring down at the sleeping beauty.

  “Knew what?” Petronelous asks.

  “That she’s an elemental. Just like me. Only in this case, it’s apparent that her power is—”

  “Fire,” I say, looking down at the captivating brunette. She stirs from her sleep, appearing innocent in my arms.

  As dangerous as she’s proven to be, she’s no more harmless than a flower with thin petals.

  I lay her down just as gently as I’d picked her up and wipe a couple of strands from her sweat-covered face.

  “Xander,” she begins in a weak voice. “Are they gone?”

  “Yes,” I answer. “Thanks to you.”

  She sighs in relief, a tiny smile breaking through her exhaustion. “I wasn’t sure I could do that anymore?”

  “You weren’t sure, or you didn’t want to?” Atia asks.

  Tora blinks, confused by the questions. “I’m sorry,” she replies. “It’s been so long…” Her eyes find mine. “Forgive me for running away when I did. I was…scared.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure her, my thumb caressing her cheek. She leans into my embrace and closes her eyes, relishing my touch.

  “I don’t understand,” Petronelous says. “If she had this power all this time, why hasn’t she used it before? She could’ve helped us against Azafalia, or used it against the demons when they’d first captured her village.”

  “I tried,” Tora says. “But …”

  “But what?” Atia asks.

  “Fire doesn’t work against fire,” Zorel answers for the young woman.

  Tora lowers her gaze, ashamed by the truth of it.

  “Still,” Atia says, her voice thick with accusation. “A weapon is a weapon. She should’ve figured out a way to use it to her advantage.”

  I gaze up at her. “Would you give her a break,” I say. “She just saved our lives, and now she’s nearly passed out.”

  “I agree with sexy,” Zorel says. “She deserves our thanks.”

  “Is this out of professional courtesy?” Petronelous asks. “One elemental to another?”

  Zorel’s eyes narrow, taken aback by the suddenness of her friend’s suspicion. “I know what it feels like to unleash the full limit of my power,” Zorel fires back. “It’s extremely taxing, and considering that she hasn’t expended herself like this in over a year, I can only imagine how tired she feels.”

  “Fine,” Atia declares. She looks over her shoulder at Chun Hei, who’s standing silently in the background and signs, “Take a look at the young woman. See if there’s something you can do.”

  Chun Hei nods. Still naked, her body dripping with beads of water, the beautiful medic rushes off to retrieve her supplies, while both Zorel and I kneel at Tora’s side, checking to make sure she’s okay.

  Behind us, Atia and Petronelous are speaking. They’re soldiers who have no special powers or abilities. They live and die by the sword. Perhaps, now that there’s another elemental amongst us, they’re suspicious.

  “Move,” Chun Hei signs as she shoves Zorel and me out of the way.

  Now dressed in her black bodysuit, she starts to check Tora’s vitals. Her pulse. The color of her skin. The dilation of her eyes, as well as her temperature. Her diagnosis comes quickly. “Doesn’t look like she’s hurt; just exhausted.”

  I sigh, grateful that she’s okay. Losing our guide so deep inside the mountain would be detrimental. Shit, we’d be doomed. But I can’t deny the fact that I have more selfish reasons. I care for the girl. She’s been through a lot, and I’d hate for her to die just as she’s regained her freedom for saving us.

  I wait for Chun Hei to move out of the way before I kneel by Tora’s side again. Her eyes flutter open as she feels my hand on hers and a weak smile spreads across her face.

  “Looks like she’s already getting better,” Atia says.

  “Of course she is,” Zorel replies. “She opens her eyes to find a strong and handsome guy with a big—”

  “We get it,” I say, shooting her a look.

  “What?” Zorel asks defensively. “I was just gonna say, heart.”

  “Sure you were,” I say. Turning my attention back to Tora, I feel her grip tighten around my hand. “Don’t leave me,” she says.

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  “Enough with this,” Atia says as she and Petronelous return. Donned in their armor, they hold their weapons in their hands, Atia with her spear, Petronelous with her two swords.

  “That was quick,” Zorel says, still naked.

  “We only have a few more hours,” Atia declares, activating the holographic timer that spirals before us. She’s right. We’ve already wasted close to an hour. We need to keep going.

  “What about Tora?” Chun Hei signs.

  “They want to leave her here,” Zorel says as she rises to her feet.

  “We want to get on with the mission,” Petronelous replies.

  “Even if she can’t walk?” Zorel asks.

  The tension in the air pulsates around me. I bow my head as I begin to think, my hand massaging Tora’s.

  “In the caverns …” Tora begins in a whisper.

  My brow furrows as I lean in closer to hear what she’s saying, her breath warm against my ear.

  “On the bridge,” she continues. “There’s a fungus that grows along the walls. It helps with energy and replenishment. Bring it to me.”

  The bridge. My chest tightens as I gaze up at the entrance. We just got done fighting these creatures, barely able to make it out with our lives. The prospect of venturing once more into the unknown gives me pause. But then I look at Tora, concerned by her pale skin, sweat-beaded brow, and tired breaths, and I know what I have to do.

  “You girls stay here,” I say, keeping my gaze trained on Tora. “I’ll be back.”

  “Unacceptable,” Atia declares. “We have no time for this.”

  “She can’t walk,” I shoot back.

  “So carry her,” Petronelous says. “You’re strong enough.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” I ask, gazing into her eyes.

  But she looks away, frustrated and without answer.

  “Ever since we freed her and her people, you’ve all been combative,” I say.

  “You tell them, Xander,” Zorel says, her arms crossing against her heavy breasts.

  The reprisal sets Petronelous on fire, and she points a finger at the blond elemental, warning her to remain quiet.

  “Look,” I say, trying to remain calm. “Just give me a couple of minutes to find this … fungus she’s talking about, and we’ll be off. Just like we were before, okay?”

  Atia exchanges a glance with Petronelous, and I see the shorthand between the two warriors. They don’t like this plan or Tora, and I’m starting to think that they don’t like me as well. For Atia, that’s a given. But for Petronelous, a friend who I’ve been able to depend on in the past, it’s worrisome.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I add, trying to sweeten the deal. “Once she’s up and walking, we’ll have another weapon at our disposal.”

  “What weapon?” Petronelous replies. “Zorel said it herself, fire doesn’t work against fire.”

  “That may be true,” I say. “But Atia pointed out that a weapon can be adjusted to be used in other ways.”

  Atia’s mouth tightens into a thin line, and I can see the bitter resentment in her eyes, as her words are used against her.

  “Fine,” she finally declares. “You have five minutes. Nothing more. After that, we leave.”

  “Deal,”
I say.

  “Just give me a second to get dressed,” Zorel says, turning to get dressed.

  “No,” I tell her, catching her by the arm. “Stay here with Tora,” I whisper. “Keep her safe.”

  Zorel’s gaze shifts nervously over my shoulder to Atia and Petronelous who are watching us in confusion.

  “Something’s wrong with them,” I say. “I can feel it.”

  She nods.

  Knowing I don’t have much time, I kneel next to Tora once more. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

  She smiles, and I feel my heart soar with determination. I’m going to help her, and in turn, she’s going to help us.

  Grabbing my rectifier from the ground, I race around the lake and back into the entrance, where we’d just come from, searching through the dark for the fungus that she was talking about.

  My eyes flicker as I crack one of the glow sticks that Zorel handed me before I left and my sight is filled with deep pockets of eroded rock and elements. Crystals embedded in the dark rock shimmer against the green glow of my stick, and I see a hand-sized spider scurry away behind a rock. But still no fungus.

  Damnit, where are you?

  I continue searching, fueled by my adrenaline. But after a while, I’m overcome by a concentrated focus, that brings me to calm. The moment of clarity alerts me to my surroundings, and I’m regretfully reminded that the last time I was on this bridge, I was assaulted by ghosts. My breath stills in my chest as I hear the sound of a voice behind me.

  I stop and turn, listening for it to speak again.

  “Zorel?” My eyes narrow as I peer through the darkness.

  Nothing.

  It’s all in your mind, I tell myself, willing the strength to concentrate. You need to hurry.

  “Xander?” the voice comes again, only this time, with more force.

  I turn around and see the shadow of a young woman approaching me along the bridge. Frightened, I raise my rectifier and aim it at her head. Is it the witch? Is it the queen of the mountain that the tentacled-face demon was warning us about? My hands steady themselves against my nerves. But the trembling I feel is not from the existence of a demon, but from plain fear.

  “Who are you?” I ask.