Hovering over the waves, I open a bottle and dip it into the icy lake. My hand aches as I hold it underwater, making air glug up and out. It seems to take ages for the bubbles to stop.
“Shimmerlady?” Rutholyn calls.
“Hang on!” I say, trying to close the dripping bottle. The lid’s attached with a wire hinge that’s hard to manipulate now that my hands are useless frozen claws.
“Shimmerlady!” Rutholyn cries again. “Something's on the bridge!”
14
Wolievs
Get in the coach!” I shout, finally capping the bottle with a clumsy combination of chin, teeth, and thumb.
“I think there’s many monsters,” Rutholyn calls. “I think they’re wolievs.”
“Get in the coach now!” As I raise my energy platform, I hear the ominous sounds of claws scraping stone and raspy heavy breathing. My cagic perch is soon level with the bridge, and the wolievs are closer than I thought—so close I can see the blend of quills and grimy fur covering their stocky bodies.
I aim the shimmerdark I’m kneeling on at the open guidebox door, but I’m a split-second too slow. A woliev rams into me.
Darkest realms, it’s like being hit by a seg-coach. The impact swats the water bottle out of my hand and sends me flying. I come to a rolling stop as the other bottles shatter beneath me. Jagged glass pokes through the canvas laundry bag and my pallacoat.
Is this it?
Is this how I die?
I look up just as a woliev lunges, his gaping mouth full of pointy, yellow teeth and vinegary-smelling saliva. Wailing and hardly thinking, I hurl a globe of shimmerdark at him, but the woliev dodges and the energy only singes his quills.
Somewhere behind me, Rutholyn screams.
The seg’s door! Blazing realms, it’s still open!
More wolievs scramble toward me. Since I’m still on the ground, I create a long bar of energy, wrap my arms and legs around it, and slide myself sideways. I’m like a knife spreading butter. As I hope, the low, swift movement keeps me clear of swiping claws and snapping teeth.
I then spring to my feet and turn toward Rutholyn’s shrieks. A nocturne’s jammed itself in the seg-coach’s door, trying to reach her. I need to do something.
But the other wolievs are charging me again, muscles churning, eyes blazing.
“Get to the cabdwell!” I shriek at Rutholyn as I run from the wolievs, fighting to untangle myself from the bag of broken glass. Hopefully she’s already in the back of the coach. She’ll be safer there, harder to reach. Finally able to tear off the laundry bag, I send a whip-like crescent of cagic at the wolievs. It knocks them down, but only temporarily.
I moan in frustration. Creating a bar of shimmerdark overhead, I hang onto it and whisk myself down the bridge. Even though I killed a nocturne in Marin Harbor, there are at least a dozen wolievs chasing me. I can’t fight them all.
Seconds after I land, a woliev pounces on me, teeth snapping and claws raking. I fall hard on the bridge and just barely shield myself with energy shaped like a turtle’s shell. More wolievs join the attack, and since I made the shield so quickly, it’s translucent and not that strong. It’s as if I’m wrapped in a thick blanket that only softens their blows.
Groaning, I struggle to focus, to survive. First, I strengthen the shield, and then I make it larger, hopefully pushing the beasts away. Huddled beneath this overturned, black bowl of energy, I can only see my folded arms and legs and the damp flagstones.
Maybe I should fight these wolievs the same way I fought the cattern: compressing shimmerdark until it’s searing hot.
I can only create one shape at a time, though, and I can’t heat my shield or I’ll roast myself.
But I also can’t keep hiding. Rutholyn needs me.
Listening to the wolievs angrily snuffling around my temporary shelter, I get an idea. If shimmerdark heats up when I force more energy into a shape, then surely shrinking a large amount of cagic and crushing its energy into a smaller area will have the same effect.
Taking a deep breath, I expand my shimmerdark shield, adding cagic until it’s the size of a small house. I then quickly crunch all that energy into a thin hoop surrounding me. As I hoped, it radiates heat and red sparks dance on its surface.
The wolievs seem briefly confused, but then they attack again. Yet the first beast to throw himself on the energy ring dies with a splurching gasp and sizzle of burnt flesh. Unfortunately, his momentum sends his heavy corpse bashing into me. I fall backward, releasing the red-rimmed shimmerdark so that I don’t eviscerate myself. Wham, I hit the bridge, and ugh, the dead nocturne lands on me. Before I can feel either victorious—one down, so many to go—or horrified, teeth lock onto my right ankle. I scream in pain as a different woliev drags me out of the gory mess.
I’m in agony, but I keep my wits and cover my trapped foot with energy. I then splay my fingers, expanding the cagic and forcing the woliev’s mouth open. I pull myself free and immediately create another shield, for I’m still surrounded by monsters. This time, I shape the shimmerdark into a giant bell so I can stand up beneath it. I then limp down the bridge, my ankle aching as if it’s full of shredded metal. It’s hard to think clearly while I’m this uncomfortable, but I still need to come up with a plan. If I were alone, I’d escape with transference—sail off on a shimmerdark disc. Yet Rutholyn’s still trapped in the coach.
Lifting my bell-shaped barrier a finger’s width, I peer out from under it. At least in my confusion, I hobbled closer to the coach. The wolievs are also prowling around my shield, snarling and surely eager to attack again.
It’s hard to leave my energy shell, for a part of me wants to hide forever. But when I do, I send a large crescent of shimmerdark flying toward the nocturnes. It’s not compressed and hot, so not deadly, but it still hits them hard. Two nocturnes stumble and fall, while others yelp in pain. My attack also knocks the seg-coach sideways, and the front bumper crumples against the bridge’s guardrail. That’s not good. I can’t damage the seg-coach—I need it.
But maybe it’s lost already. The woliev trying to get into the guidebox has shredded the passenger seat. I see bits of fabric and padding hanging out the door. I’m sure he’s broken the coach’s controls too.
The nocturnes surround me again, and it still seems impossible to defeat them all. If only I could just frighten them off.
“Go away!” I shout as I shape an expanding ring of shimmerdark that spreads out from me on all sides. It’s how I knocked down the civilian guards, but even though the nocturnes are shoved back, yelping and snarling, they stay standing. My cagic also strikes the seg-coach again, chipping its gray paint.
I wish I knew Rutholyn was alright in there.
A dark, shaggy nocturne barks at me, and I shout wordlessly in return, trying to sound as ferocious as possible. Maybe I can trick these monsters into thinking I’m more vicious and bloodthirsty than they are.
But of course they aren’t intimidated by me. The pack presses closer, drowning out my pitiful roar with far louder howls.
I wonder if they were tracking us, waiting for a tender human to leave the safety of the coach. Fedorie always said that wolievs relentlessly chase their prey, exhausting it, and maybe that’s what they’re trying to do to me. It might even be working because when I send out another wave of shimmerdark, it’s thinner and weaker. The wolievs hunch and wince as the cagic passes over them, but that’s all. Surely sensing my fatigue, two of the larger nocturnes lunge at me—the shaggy one again and a brute missing an ear.
I try to dodge their attacks by creating a bar of shimmerdark, grabbing onto it, and transferring away, but I’m not quick enough. The shaggy woliev leaps up and her jaws clamp onto my pallacoat, forcing me to let go. I crash painfully down onto the roof of the seg-coach.
But at least I hear a “Help!” from below, and although I hate that Rutholyn’s voice comes from the vulnerable guidebox rather than the safer cabdwell, I’m glad she’s alive.
As I stumble ac
ross the top of the coach, the shaggy woliev springs up to join me on the roof.
I pull a shield of shimmerdark around me like a cape—but I’ve made it hastily so it’s not that thick. The woliev clamps her jaws around my upper arm and then shakes me violently. My shoulder bends to its limits, and my arm feels like it might rip off. Desperately, I use my free hand to summon a ball of energy and crack it against the woliev’s head.
With a yowl, the beast whips me sideways and releases me. Screaming feebly, I spin off into the frigid Dark Month air, out over the cold lake. The spiraling motion is confusing, but I’m able to wrap a belt of shimmerdark around my middle, and I both slow myself down and stop myself from plunging into the water. But oh, being held up by my waist alone is extremely uncomfortable. I quickly carry myself back to the bridge, and although I’d love to land far away from the wolievs, I still have to help Rutholyn. So I aim for the seg-coach roof, and as soon as I land, I send a massive cube of energy at the shaggy woliev still hunched there.
As if I struck her with a giant mallet, she careens off into the darkness, and seconds later, I hear a splash. Then as quickly as possible, I create a shimmerdark triangle and shatter the driver’s side window with it. After that, stunned that I’m still somehow breathing, still able to do anything, I create a hovering ramp and use it to slide in through the open window.
“Shimmerlady!” Rutholyn shrieks as I land awkwardly in the driver’s seat. She’s huddled behind the steering wheel, which the nocturne wedged in the passenger door must have snapped off. The metal circle is now jammed near the floor pedals, keeping Rutholyn just out of reach of the monster’s claws. Glowy Pony stands loyally, although uselessly, beside her.
Oh, I’m so glad she’s not hurt. I’m also thankful that the passenger door isn’t any larger.
I send a ball of shimmerdark at the trapped woliev, attempting to knock him out onto the bridge. But although the energy crackles forcefully against his head and shoulders, it doesn’t dislodge him. He roars furiously and swipes at me, so I turn my back. The guidebox is too cramped for me to quickly shape a shimmerdark shield, so the monster slashes my pallacoat and gouges my skin and muscle.
I scream in pain. Calling on as much energy as I can, I fling out a forceful, expanding bubble of shimmerdark. This second wallop of energy bashes the trapped nocturne free. It also shoves away the wolievs teaming at the driver’s side door, shatters the navigation window, and makes Glowy Pony fizzle, vanish, and then reappear.
But oh no. The energy must have also struck Rutholyn, for she’s slumped over. The force of my cagic probably slammed her head against the control panel. Is she unconscious? Dead?
Scooping her up, I carry her down the midpassage and into the cabdwell—the safest place in the seg-coach.
Looking over my shoulder, I see Glowy Pony following us as more wolievs try to climb into the damaged guidebox. They’ll find it easier to get in now that the navigation window’s gone.
Nearly crying with weariness after letting so much energy course through me, I drop Rutholyn onto the table-bed, and since there’s no door between the guidebox and cabdwell, I create one with a panel of shimmerdark.
I then turn to Rutholyn, and merciful light, her chest rises. She’s breathing. Realms, what a relief.
Glowy Pony appears at her side, and the seg-coach shakes and shudders. Those wolievs just will not give up. They are still trying to force their way in. I hear claws scraping against the roof and walls, and they also seem to be thumping their massive bodies against the cabdwell’s rear door. Somehow, they know it’s an entrance. How intelligent are they?
At least I have a moment to catch my breath, although it’s also a moment to realize how injured I am. My ankle—the one the nocturne dragged me with—is swollen and stiff. My arm is bruised and punctured, and my slashed back stings and pulses in a way that means I’m probably bleeding heavily.
I hear more barking and snarling, as well as groaning steel and snapping wood. A woliev must have made it into the guidebox and is now squeezing down the midpassage. I hear the lavatory walls and storage cabinets buckling and bending.
I think my shimmerdark door will hold, but as long as it’s there, I can’t create any other cagic shapes.
I need to get rid of these monsters; I need to destroy them all—but how?
Rutholyn’s eyes flutter open.
I wish I had good news for her, but instead I say, “The seg-coach can’t protect us for much longer.”
“What do you think we’re going to do?” Rutholyn whispers.
“Maybe we can ride a shimmerdark disc into the forest and hide there,” I suggest. But that’s not a great plan either. The woods also have monsters.
Rutholyn shakes her head, wide-eyed. “But I don’t like that. We need the coach, and we need crackers and a place to stay warm. Also, we need walls…”
And even if I transfer us away from the bridge, the wolievs will probably follow us, track us. We’re trapped. The realization feels like a hand on my throat.
I hear the midpassage walls creaking and breaking, and I suppose I can at least kill the woliev crawling through it. I’ll use my best trick—creating hot shimmerdark by crushing the energy of a large shape into a smaller one.
“Don’t look,” I tell Rutholyn.
She covers her eyes.
I then shrink the cagic door, revealing the woliev wriggling through the midpassage—a spotted beast with a broken tooth. I have to compress the door’s energy into a very small cube before the edges glow red. But as soon as it’s hot, I thrust my arms forward, sending the tiny-yet-lethal weapon into the woliev’s skull. I then expand the shape again. The monster’s eyes bulge, something wet seeps out of its nose and mouth, and it slumps dead, blocking the passage.
Rutholyn peeks at the fallen nocturne for a second and then turns away, wincing.
I wish it was the only beast we had to destroy. The coach rocks violently as wolievs continue to bash themselves against the cabdwell’s back door. The hinges squeak and the once secure handle rattles. I wonder how long we have before it breaks.
I need to get Rutholyn out of here. I don’t know where we’ll go after that, but the seg-coach clearly won’t keep us safe much longer.
At least there’s another way in and out of the cabdwell.
I kneel, push the rug aside, and open the panel covering the cagic reservoirs. I’m pretty sure the coach is too low to the ground for wolievs to crawl beneath it—yet Rutholyn and I can fit down there.
“What are you doing?” Rutholyn asks, rubbing what must be a sore spot on the back of her head.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say.
I can’t squeeze past the cagic reservoirs, and even Rutholyn isn’t small enough for that, so I’ll have to remove at least one of the shiny tanks. Unfortunately, the latches Golly used are beneath the canisters and out of reach. I suppose I’ll have to cut the tanks free with shimmerdark.
First, I unplug the cables, then I focus cagic into my hands, and after heating a small square of shimmerdark, I use it to melt one of the joints. It takes a while, and does it ever smell, but eventually the metal snaps.
“They are coming in where we don’t want them too,” Rutholyn whispers, pointing at the cabdwell’s exterior door.
She’s right. The wolievs have bent back the top corner of the door, and part of its frame is also loose. Claws scratch through the gaps, and the monster’s yipping, hungry snarls are so loud Rutholyn covers her ears.
I focus on freeing the reservoir to clear our escape route. Two more metal bands break apart, each with a sharp ping.
“I’m all the way scared.” Rutholyn moves to my side, and Glowy Pony trots closer too.
“It’ll be fine!” I say, not sure I believe myself. But at last, yes! Finally! The reservoir clatters down onto the bridge with a muffled clang.
“Follow me!” I squeeze through the opening, carefully avoiding the ragged, hot metal.
But Rutholyn doesn’t move. “I think we
will get eaten out there.”
Even Glowy Pony won’t join me, which is ridiculous because the nocturnes can’t hurt him. If only he could fight like I do. With a little more firepower, I might be able to defeat these monsters.
Yet that gives me an idea. If it’s just extra power I need, I have it. A fully charged cagic reservoir lies beside me.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I call up to Rutholyn. “Stay where you are.” I then reach for the canister I refilled only a few hours ago.
A woliev peers under the seg-coach and growls. Another appears and then another. I curl up to stay out of reach. Now they know where I am, which isn’t great, but it might stop them from battering the cabdwell door.
The reservoir is heavy, so I push it with a cube of shimmerdark, rolling it out from under the coach. If my plan works, it’ll cause a lot of destruction, so I need to move the reservoir as far away from the seg-coach as I can.
I then create a mat of shimmerdark and squirm onto it. Clinging to the edge, I swiftly carry myself out from beneath the coach, startling the wolievs as I streak past them. As I hoped, the wolievs chase after me, and I see there’s still about ten of them left. When they’ve nearly caught up to me, I change directions, clinging tightly to my energy mat as it swerves. I then return to the cagic reservoir. Once there, I have a few short seconds to roll the cannister farther down the bridge before the wolievs close in again. When the monsters are almost close enough to attack, I create a bar of shimmerdark, hang onto it, and hover away. Again, I land farther along the bridge, tempting the wolievs to chase me.
I play my perilous game with them several times—transferring myself along the bridge using shimmerdark and then doubling back to roll the energy canister away from the seg-coach.
I hope Rutholyn’s alright, and I’m sure she’s watching me through the cabdwell window.
Once I’ve moved the reservoir five bridge supports north, I don’t leave when the wolievs close in—instead I lift myself upward, crouching on a shimmerdark disc.
Shimmerdark Page 14