Wolves of the Tesseract Collection

by Christopher D Schmitz

  Chapter 26

  Shandra’s team took heavy losses as the overwhelming vyrm numbers threw themselves at the intruding force with reckless abandon. The situation drew bleak enough that the clerics used the bodies of their fallen comrades to build a slight wall for cover.

  Blazing blaster fire sizzled over the top of their despairing crew as Wulftone and Jackie surged ahead to catch up, evening their numbers. Zabe breathed a sigh of relief as they momentarily beat back the oppressors with their reinforcements’ momentum and the vyrm yielded a few meters.

  “We thought you might like some help up here,” Jackie shouted and picked off a few scaly warriors.

  The enemy suddenly grew a waist-high ice wall for protection of their own.

  “Their frostmancer is here,” Wulftone spat. They’d met in Antarctica the day Harken lost his life.

  Jackie fired a bunch of burning holes through their defenses. They sealed back up shortly after. “Two can play that game,” she growled as four of their troops activated their tower shields and laid them horizontally to provide a similar measure of cover.

  Zabe, Shandra, and Bithia breathed with relief when allies took over their protection and bought a few more precious moments. Zabe flipped on the handheld screen and connected a wireless signal to the spy device which relayed visual and audio data. His paws were too big for the touchscreen controls so he passed it off to Shandra who navigated Respan’s infiltrator droid.

  His face fell when he spotted two of the heralds who had peeled back their veils of flesh, holding them open as if they were shrouds for miniature black holes. The screen’s image shimmered and shuddered as the void they’d called forth from deep within sucked away all light and visual data from the machine.

  Zabe cried out, “They’ve started it! They are waking Sh’logath!” He stood tall and looked back towards the peak, drawing a barrage of laser fire that made him instinctually duck.

  “There’s no way we can get there in time,” Shandra cried. She looked to Bithia. “You’re supposed to be super powerful in the astral plane—can’t you do something? It’s now or never!”

  Bithia's eyes turned milky white as she projected her power towards the mighty evil that was Sh'logath and tried to impose her will, just as she'd done with the vyrm psychics earlier. She suddenly convulsed and screamed; her eyes turned black like coals. Bithia babbled repeatedly. "It was me. It was my fault. I did it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean too—but it was me."

  Jackie grabbed her so she wouldn’t harm herself under the dark spell. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

  Zabe grabbed his cousin, Wulftone. The two had been a formidable duo ever since the loss of Zurrah so many years prior. They glanced at the line of weapons arrayed against them on the steep climb. “This is the end. Are you with me, brother?”

  Wulftone nodded. “Of course. Always.”

  As Zabe turned to Shandra, Wulftone leaned down and kissed Jackie on the mouth Wulftone pulled away. “No regrets. If I live, I’m going to marry you… just so you understand my intentions.”

  Jackie raised her eyebrows and blinked with shock, though she was hardly surprised. “Well, get out there and save the world then—I expect a proper proposal. You can’t do that if you let the world get eaten.”

  “Shandra, give us as much cover fire as we can get,” Zabe ordered.

  She turned from Zabe and barked the order.

  Howling their charge, Zabe and Wulftone sprinted up the steep pyramid slope. Their bodies absorbed blast after blast. Shandra’s troops picked up their shields and charged towards the icy line on the uneven terrain, diverting attention and drawing as much fire as possible from the lupine warriors.

  ***

  The air screeched as Akko Skoldagrath peeled open his skin and revealed the great nothingness within. Tattered flesh ripped and flapped as the abyss consumed it during the macabre ritual. Pure force of will held his body together despite its center transmuting into a tunnel linked with the agod—it wound and churned like a vortex, connected to the twisting portal overhead.

  Akko Sxkakzacros glared at the next two brothers. They would follow after him and then Sh’logath would devour them and make himself tangible through their sacrifice. The eldest’s midsection was already destroyed, but he completed the ritual by dragging a claw through the remainder of his sternum and becoming one with the gate.

  “You will honor your obligation, this time,” Akko Sxkakzacros spat across the mystic circle.

  Sisyphus stepped forward as if to ask for clarification. “This has been done before?”

  The familiar man with the slicked-back hair, Quintin Hall who Skrom had restrained so often, giggled and pointed to his chest playfully. “Who, me?” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a simple audio recorder and activated the playback feature, cranking the volume to the maximum.

  A horrid screeching, wailing, and clicking language played a vile message that made skin and scale crawl for any who heard the darquespeech. Despite that, the cultists drew curiously closer to the circle.

  Akko Sxkakzacros roared so violently that it shook the bone halo in the sky, rattling its chains. His void suddenly stitched itself back together with naked flesh. “How long? You had a prerecorded message… so how long have you planned this whole charade?” He glanced at Akko Quarnyk and Akko Soggathoth; neither of them wore eldritch chains.

  The rest of the heralds solidified as well and the sky-bound portal cracked with an ominous grating sound. Akko Sxkakzacros tried to leave his circle of binding but his ethereal chains held fast; he jerked and struggled, shaking the black obelisk where the chains drew their power from.

  “What is it,” Caivev demanded an interpretation. “What was on that recording?”

  The beast within Tahnak’s body uttered more of the black speech and named the remaining brothers by name. a different sort of fetter lashed out from each of the obelisks and snared their spirit forms to prevent them from being freed if their bodies died—the same kind of chains that bound them originally.

  Akko Sxkakzacros locked eyes on Caivev as he leaned against his unbreakable bonds. The floor suddenly gave out beneath Tahnak’s body and the possessed man fell through the breach just as Akko Sxkakzacros hissed one word. “Betrayal.”

  The gilded box in the center of the formation detonated in caustic blaze far more intense than any grenade. Quintin Hall's body flew backward well beyond the mushrooming cloud of chemical fire. The other five heralds were flung back and held firm in their chains. Intense flames incinerated the flesh and bone to dust, rendering it unusable for sacrifice.

  Overhead, the circle of bone split. A massive fissure spread like a spider web. The breaking filled the sky with thunder.

  Within the ring, the portal lens cracked as it stretched. Sh’logath beat upon the door with his flailing tendrils. He glared at the scene below, beaming with hatred, willing himself through the cracks, but only succeeding with one inky, black splotch of ether—almost microscopic in size. The filthy drop fell like vile rain and shot through the air like a bullet, searching for its dark destination.

  Sh'logath's ebon bullet pierced the wounded body of the traitor in Quintin Hall's body as it shot away. Its exit wound blasted a fist-sized puncture through the man's chest as the escaping herald tried to outrun the bombs he'd had Theera plant within the golden ark, and elsewhere. He collapsed but kept crawling on his hands and knees, trying to flee back towards the Kith Gate.

  Shaking violently, the ground became unstable and threatened to throw everyone off their feet as a string of explosives buried within the pyramid blossomed with kinetic energy. Caivev screamed a curse and staggered to keep her balance—the trickster had played them all along! Another bomb rattled the stones as the foundation far below them broke into unstable pieces.

  Zabe and Wulftone ascended the climb just in time to see Caivev and her crew panicking at the chaos of the ritual gone awry. Quixotic chains bound most of the heralds, but the
y no longer had bodies and the Sh’logathian gate to nihil had fractured.

  They looked at each other and each knew the other’s thoughts. Something else had intervened; the Awakening had become impossible at this point.

  Another bomb erupted and quaked the pyramid. A vent of fire blew hot ash upwards nearby and the two lycans threw themselves over the edge of the structure and slid back down its side.

  ***

  Percival Wainsmith scrambled through the corridors; with his face covered in soot and ancient dust, he bounced from wall to wall. His fine clothes had torn and the flames had burnt away much of his hair and rashed his face. Every breath he exhaled came with a curse.

  He looked from door to door, trying to decide which archway to take as he frantically searched for Sisyphus or Thornton to guide him. Wainsmith knew they’d be heading for the gate back to Earth—but he did not know the way.

  Another explosion rocked the structure, nearly knocking Wainsmith off his feet and covering him with a fresh coat of dirt. He chose the left path.

  Twenty meters deep, the trail turned completely dark. The billionaire tried to feel his way through it and suddenly saw light. A fist clubbed him in the jaw; Wainsmith reeled backward landed on his butt while his attacker leapt out from the shadows.

  Tahnak snarled and hit the cultist again.

  “Akko Quarnyk! Why?”

  The beast within him laughed as he drew a dagger, pinning his prey down. “Everyone is still fooled? Excellent.” Another bomb rumbled violently and Tahnak looked off wistfully. “Good Theera—you’ve done well.”

  Wainsmith squinted at him. “Akko Soggathoth?”

  Tahnak sneered and used his knife to cut the leather strap around Wainsmith’s neck before batting the charm away. He hissed and expelled the murky cloud that was his essence. Akko Soggathoth took the rich man as his trophy.

  He pushed the confused Tahnak off of him. Before the soldier could get his bearings, Wainsmith pulled out a handgun and shot the corpsman in his face, ending him in the dark. Akko Soggathoth chortled gleefully as he recovered the amulet Sisyphus had given Wainsmith.

  Shaking one end of the leather thong, he pulled it free and let the amulet clatter to the ground. A broken stone potsherd lay nearby and Akko Soggathoth snatched it up and used his magic to change its shape to a near perfect replica from the clay. He threaded the leather through and tied the fake artifact around his head.

  A wide smile spread across his face when he spotted Jacob Sisyphus fleeing past the door Percival Wainsmith had come from. Copying his host’s mannerisms, he fixed the man in his sights and gave chase.

  ***

  “It’s all coming down,” Jackie said, still cradling Bithia in her arms. High overhead the ring of nihil sundered and split. Lightning flashed across the sky as if rage personified.

  The princess shook as the giant halo began falling, its power broken. She opened her eyes. “It was so… so evil!”

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Jackie yelled against the howling buffets of wind and the explosions that blasted hunks of the pyramid away. “Our boys must’ve done it!”

  “Praise the Architect King,” Shandra yelled and they form up just as Zabe and Wulftone slid to a stop at their perimeter. Their enemies had already broken ranks and scattered.

  Jackie hauled Bithia to her feet. “Can you walk?”

  Bithia nodded and brushed herself off. “I’m fine.”

  “Now is our chance,” Zabe barked. “If we can beat them to the door and seal them in, we can finally put an end to all of Caivev’s plans!”

  They all looked to Bithia for the final word. She curtly bobbed her head in assent. "If we can do this, we will finally end the corruption and influence that began with Nitthogr."

  The invaders couldn’t spare another moment. They turned and made for the door even as broken, smaller fragments of whitewashed bone and links of broken chain rained down from the collapsing Nihil Bridge.

  Chapter 27

  The smells of sulfur and ancient soot-caked his nose as Sisyphus dashed through the dark halls. More reverberations from the collapsing superstructure shook him through the hallway. The exits collapsed in heaps of rubble, blocking off the hallways.

  He cursed and whirled around, looking for Thornton. Sisyphus had gotten turned around in the dark—and all because of one cursed creatures antics. The conjurer screamed a string of expletives at Akko Soggathoth.

  Wainsmith stepped out of the shadows. “Sisyphus? I have found the way down.”

  “Oh good—I thought I’d lost you—but we have to hurry.” He scanned his friend closely, looking for signs that he still wore the darquematter trinket he’d placed on him earlier. The spell caster howled a final call for the last member of his trio. “Thornton? Thornton!”

  “Here,” he called back. The trio reformed seconds later. Sisyphus discretely checked him for his protection talisman as well. The oil baron had found a bloody, barely functioning body of Akko Soggathoth’s favorite form.

  Sisyphus towered over him, grinning and meeting the coal-eyed gaze of possessed man. “I did not become the magus I am today without skills and resources,” he spat. He scrolled to a spell on his smartphone and read a binding spell that locked the wicked spirit within the body of Quintin Hall.

  They were alone in the tunnel and the herald had nowhere to go. Even if he could abandon this form, options would have been limited.

  The wizard opened the blank tome and held it out to his prisoner. “You’ve played your last trick. Make your mark—it’s your only way out of here.”

  With blood spurting from his mouth from all the internal bleeding, he looked at the three men. His eyes lingered on Wainsmith. Finally, he reached up and drew a symbol on the book, freeing his spirit from the host, but locking it within the pages.

  Sisyphus cackled and snapped it shut, gloating to himself about how clever he was to have tricked the ultimate prankster any world had ever seen. “We may have cause to press him into a service in the future,” he said, winking at his peers, “though, it is a wonderful trophy to hold—even if I decide to lock it away or drop it into the ocean.”

  Thornton hissed, “Sh’logath will not rise today, but at least we’ve gained a powerful boon, should we ever decide how to best use it.”

  Wainsmith nodded. “Now let’s get out of here before we lose that chance! I don’t trust Caivev to hold the door for us and this place will come down at any moment.”

  Grabbing his khopesh, Sisyphus used its telekinetic abilities to move the fallen stones that blocked an exit tunnel.

  Wainsmith pointed the fastest way down. “Quickly!”

  ***

  Zabe and Wulftone brought up the rear. Their friends moved as fast as possible back towards the large antechamber where the door to Kith had been located. Intermittent bombs rocked the structure still but did not shake as violently in the center, nearer the foundation.

  Suddenly everything shook so fiercely that most everyone was thrown from his or her feet. It sounded like they were inside a cracking egg—the ring of nihil had finally crashed into the pyramid and the impact crushed the temple’s upper levels.

  Vyrm of the Black tumbled down the stairwells on either side of them as they all rushed for the same exit portal. It was a race for survival.

  Zabe looked back in time to brace against a blaster beam that caught him square in the back. He growled in response and leapt to his feet, yanking his blaster from the thigh holster and firing a quick burst into the mass of scrambling vyrm behind him.

  Wulftone’s weapon whined and went dark with depleted batteries. “I’m out,” he shouted and turned back to the escape. His cousin joined him, likewise firing blindly to his rear as he ran.

  Zabe's weapon echoed the empty signal and Zabe turned in a spinning motion, flinging his pistol at their pursuit. The pistol-whipped a vyrm in the face and he crumpled while the Prime's men and women ran ahead.

  The last
room opened up before them and the two lycans tried to buy any necessary time for their friends to reach the doors. Many of the injured or those carrying others needed the extra few seconds.

  Snarling at the entry point to the room, the two werewolves held the chokepoint and roared their success at claiming the room. They warned their enemies against approach, but it went unheeded as they fired a barrage at them.

  Zabe looked back and saw the doors begin to close as their forces made it through the gate. On the other side of the door, Chira and his men used flamethrowers to burn away the wet blood that kept the door activated.

  The pyramid rumbled again as the other half of the ring impacted. A massive section of wall collapsed exposing the doors to a small army of vyrm—Caivev was with them.

  She screamed, “Kill them—take the room!”

  Scaly enemies poured in with weapons blazing, shooting at the lycans and any of the Prime’s forces who had barely cleared the door. Chira and his men hid behind the closing gates and returned fire while the lycans made a mad dash for the exit.

  Another section of wall collapsed close to the door, revealing Skrom and more Black. At Caivev's side, Idrakka raised a rocket-propelled grenade launcher and aimed for the gate.

  Wulftone, nearly through the door, turned his head just in time to see him.

  Jackie screamed, “RPG! RPG!”

  He reacted instinctively and leapt into the air as the explosive round shot like a missile. Wulftone spun and shin-kicked the round like a soccer defenseman saving the day. The eruption detonated like a powder keg and blasted flesh from bone and knocked him to the floor, unconscious.

  “Wulftone!” Zabe and Jackie screamed in unison.

  Skrom and his soldiers snarled as they rushed towards the fallen hero whose leg barely hung from the socket. His lower half bled upon the floor where tattered and torn muscle and ligament hung from ragged tibia, fibula, and metatarsals.