by Eric Asher
But the colossus didn’t slow. He didn’t acknowledge them. Instead, the black sludge of the gravemakers shifted toward them, roiling like scorched bark, forming hands to reach out to the dragon.
“Damian!” Sam screamed, her knuckles whitening around the splendorum mortem. Vicky’s heart slammed in her chest as Sam raised the dagger.
The gravemakers froze, struggling to move, and golden light seeped through the cracks in their flesh, brightening into miniature suns.
Terrence leveled the gun at the nearest of them and fired. The bark-like flesh ruptured, white viscous fluid spraying out around the wound. Terrence took aim and pulled the trigger again, cutting down faces and arms and hands as fast as his finger could pull the trigger on the ghostly weapon in his hands.
Still, the things reformed and closed on them.
“He’s losing it,” Terrence said shaking his hand where it had turned into a sickly red hue. “It burns. Shit, it burns!”
Sam moved, the splendorum mortem clutched in her hand, and Vicky knew what was coming. She shouted, “Take my hand! Don’t you dare strike him down! We are not dead yet!”
Zola climbed forward on Jasper’s back, one hand locked around Terrence and the other on Sam’s shoulder. “Take the chance, Samantha. Take her hand.”
Sam glanced back at Zola. She turned to Vicky with tears in her eyes before she slid the dagger into its sheath and took the hand of the girl destined to be the Destroyer.
Vicky laced her fingers into Gaia’s, and before the light had completely faded and the Abyss swallowed the skies, she screamed out, “We have him! Bring him with us!”
The world fractured around them.
The golden lights of the Abyss fell and shattered as if they were stained glass dropped from a cathedral window. Lines and ripples shot out all around, and through each Vicky saw a different sight. In one, she saw the body of Gaia beneath Rivercene. Another showed her the Morrigan, a spear piercing the Crow; she became the witch and obliterated a fairy in a cloud of darkness. Through a third she glimpsed a golden werewolf, the jaws of a dark-touched held open by its mighty claws, until at last the jaws gave out, and Wahya used the dark-touched’s own teeth to cut its head from its body. The spray of blood gave way to another vision, the innkeeper, standing outside in a half ring of the green men. The golden light of the Abyss shone from her eyes.
It all came together as one mighty symphony of light and death and life. Gaia’s body formed not in the blackness of the Abyss, but for a moment she stood in the shadows of the storm. A golden vision, wrapping her arms around Damian’s corrupted form, and before the world went black, Vicky saw the horned king on the spire. And heard his cry.
Then the darkness took them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Vicky’s heart hammered in her chest. Too long the world remained in darkness. The stars of the Abyss should have been there, but instead she found a cold so deep it brought nothing but pain.
Gaia’s reassuring warmth should have greeted her. Friends should have appeared beside her. All that greeted Vicky was darkness.
Panic rose.
It felt like an eternity had passed before the infinite blackness finally broke open and the lights of the Abyss ignited once more. The stars had never been so blinding.
The path beneath their feet did not light smoothly. It stuttered and started until at last it grew solid. Zola and Terrence and Luna and Sam were all there, with Jasper nestled against Sam’s neck.
“It is done,” Gaia said. “He is here.”
When Vicky turned to the goddess, she saw the colossus behind her, as if Damian himself had become one of the leviathans of the Abyss. A slow-motion, slow-moving titan of destruction.
“What now?” Sam asked, and even though she had tightly controlled the emotions in her voice, Vicky still heard the crack. Still heard the fear bleeding through.
“You intend to gift your powers to him?” Zola asked.
“Do you think that could free him?” Vicky asked.
“He is in my realm now,” Gaia said. “His power is strong in this place. He can reach the Burning Lands and the power of your world at once. There is a possibility, a hope if you will, that if I granted my powers to him he would be able to step away from the darkness that has restrained him inside that shell.”
“I sense a but coming,” Sam said.
“It could also kill him. And me.”
“Then it’s your choice,” Terrence said. “That’s a choice no one can make for you.”
“It was a choice we made some time ago,” Gaia said. “And we have had much time to dwell on it. Come what may.”
“And if Damian dies?” Terrence started.
“We die,” Vicky said, looking up at Sam.
“It’s still a chance,” Luna said with a nod, clearly shaking from their ordeal.
“I’m willing to die for him and you,” Sam said to Vicky.
“Those bound to him will die,” Gaia said. “And you are bound by strong magicks, but they are not the strongest magicks. A blood knot can be transferred, or erased, if one were to find another anchor.”
Sam shook her head. “That’s all that’s keeping Vicky alive. It’s not acceptable.”
“There are other magicks,” Gaia said again.
Vicky turned and looked at the ghost. The red had almost completely left Terrence’s form now. And even as she watched, it faded more, until he had returned to a normal blue-and-white translucence.
“What do we have to do?” Zola asked.
“Would you like to know?” Gaia asked, turning her attention back to Vicky.
“Yes, answer Zola’s question. What do we need to do?”
“Very well,” Gaia said. “I’m afraid I do not have all of the answers for you, but I know some of those who do. You will need Tessrian, rightful heir to the throne of the Burning Lands. Koda of the Society of Flame. And Hugh of the River Pack, guardian of the Heart of Quindaro.”
“That’s a new one,” Zola said.
“I will watch over Damian here as I can. To make sure he is kept safe from the most dangerous of the Abyss creatures.”
“Like the leviathans?” Vicky asked.
Gaia shook her head slowly. “I would let him battle the leviathans on his own in this form. Perhaps not the one known as Croatoan, but most of them would be no match for what he has become.”
“It’s a shame we can’t just turn him on Nudd,” Zola said.
“Nudd’s war has not stopped,” Gaia said. “Even as we stand here in this place, the fight rages on, and your friends still battle for their lives.”
“We need to get back,” Vicky said.
Zola frowned. “We need to get Sam back to the Pit, and get the soul stone Tessrian calls home.” She blew out a breath. “And we’ll need the key of the dead if we’re going to talk to her.”
“We can’t just let them die out there,” Sam said. “Vicky’s right.”
“If either one of you die, or Damian dies, you all die. You risk too much.” Zola’s voice was almost pleading. And that fact clearly shook Sam. The vampire almost looked like Zola had slapped her.
“We don’t abandon our brothers,” Terrence said. “But I think you already know that.” He gave Zola a small smile. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”
Zola cursed. “If we are doing this, we’re doing it my way. We go in, we break the line, and we get everyone out we can. We’re not there to try to overrun Nudd. The Obsidian Inn is not strong enough. As much as we’d like to imagine that Morrigan’s forces have the power to take Nudd down on their own, they clearly do not. That was a goddamned army of dark-touched out there.”
“Agreed,” Vicky said. “Ready?”
“Then we go back,” Sam said.
Terrence nodded.
“He will be safe with me,” Gaia said. “When you’re victorious, return here. I have found a safe place for you to rejoin the battle. But it may not remain safe for long.”
“We’re ready,” Vicky said.
Gaia released her hand, and they fell from the Abyss.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
They returned to the battlefield chaos in a brilliant flash of lightning and a boom of thunder. The rain had become a downpour, turning the landscape into a treacherous, slippery mess.
Shouts and incantations echoed in the distance as allies retreated—a stuttering horn sounding that call—but Nudd’s soldiers were slow to follow. Vicky wondered if Nudd’s forces had lost their direction when Damian was snatched away.
“Where the hell are we?” Vicky asked as her foot slid out of a shallow pool of mud.
“Look at the ghosts,” Zola said.
Vicky eyed the still forms across the field of battle. They weren’t marching as one anymore, and many of them stood stock still at attention, as if they’d been frozen there since the first battle of Gettysburg.
“It was all Damian?” Terrence asked.
“We can worry about that later,” Zola said. “Right now we need to help end this battle.”
“What battle?” Vicky asked as the shouts faded and the incantations lessened in the distance. “I don’t hear much.”
She could make out a few echoed screams, and the clanging of metal hitting stone. But there were no great magicks being thrown around. No dark-touched vampires rushing them from the shadows, and not a single skeleton or sliver of gravemaker to be seen.
“Jasper,” Zola said. “Get us into the sky. We need to figure out where we’re at.”
Lightning crashed above them, and Vicky wondered just how good of an idea it was to go flying into a thunderstorm. She supposed they were going to find out.
She helped Jasper off her shoulder, and the furball erupted, his four legs exploding out and digging deep into the mud, cracking stone as his claws dug in. Jasper’s tail swished and then stilled when Zola grabbed one of the spines and climbed up. She in turn offered Terrence a hand. Vicky hopped up to Jasper’s knee and bounced to his back in a smooth, practiced motion. Luna remained silent, following Vicky’s path and bouncing up onto the dragon’s back.
“No need to show off, you two,” Zola said.
Zola didn’t poke fun at Sam as she reached forward and patted her shoulder. She had an understanding of what was on Sam’s mind. Vicky had no doubt.
“He’s really gone,” Sam said.
“Yes,” Zola said. “You’re still here, and Vicky’s still alive. Some part of him is still in there.”
Sam nodded slowly as Jasper flexed his wings and took to the sky. “Then we’ll do what we can.”
They cleared a long, low stone building before Vicky could see the wall. Judging by the spires in the distance, it didn’t take her long to figure out where they were, but it was still a jarring site to see the Western Wall blown out. Parts had fallen into the city, crushing buildings and gods knew how many Fae as something had forced its way in.
But other parts had been blown outward, and the flashes of lightning glinted on the steel of armor and swords long-vacant of the bodies they once shielded. That wasn’t all that moved among the rubble. Shadows stayed close to the ground, hurrying from one patch of deep darkness to another, invisible outside of lightning bursts and carefully controlled illuminadda spells that lit and vanished like fireflies.
Zola’s voice was barely a whisper. “Utukku.”
Vicky had never heard of an Utukku raising arms for Nudd. She’d only seen them as allies of Nixie, and members of the Obsidian Inn. She tapped on Jasper’s neck and pushed one of his spines toward the rubble. The dragon turned gradually and swept down, lifting his tail to avoid hitting remnants of the stone wall before he settled to the muddy earth in silence.
The shadows had all vanished but one. A single hooded form stood at the edge of the ruins. Vicky pulled her hood back, and Zola said, “Thank the fucking gods.” The old Cajun slid off Jasper and walked toward the Utukku. “How bad?”
“It has been bad, Zola Adannaya.” She looked up at Vicky before returning her gaze to Zola. “What has become of the creature once named Damian Vesik?”
Zola sighed. “We’re all safe. For now. Do you need help?”
In the lightning, Vicky could see the purple flesh of Uttuku’s inner lid slide over her eye before slowly revealing it once more.
Utukku stuck the staff in her hand into the earth. “We are taking what we can for resources. There is much armor and weaponry buried in the rubble. Aeros helped us recover who we could, but I fear it was not many.”
“Aeros,” Zola said, her words hurried. “You know where he went? He had Drake with him, the Demon Sword, and he was gravely injured.”
Utukku inclined her head. “To the west, you will find Morrigan’s encampment. The healers have all been summoned there. If your friend is alive, you’ll find him there.”
“Thank you,” Zola said. “Should you need us, you only have to ask.”
Utukku smiled, though the expression was sad even on the reptilian face. “It is why we fight with necromancers at our side. Thank you.”
Zola climbed onto Jasper’s back with a helping hand from Terrence. Jasper didn’t wait for a signal. He leapt off the ground and they sailed away from the walls of Falias, headed for the distant lights of Morrigan’s camp.
* * *
For all the rubble and chaos they left behind in the wreckage to the northwest of Falias, Morrigan’s camp was organized, tight, and well-protected. Zola almost missed the shimmer in the air. With only a split second to spare, she shouted, “Hit the ground, now!”
Vicky threw her arms around Jasper’s neck, and the dragon responded in an instant. Instead of their continued path, the dragon pitched his wings forward and they dropped like a rock. Some fifty feet they fell from the sky, only to have Jasper spread his wings at the last moment to soften the landing. But even then Zola and Sam shouted as the car wreck-like impact shook them to the bone.
“What was that for?” Sam asked.
“That was so we didn’t hit their shield at 60 miles an hour and go crashing to the earth from the back of the dragon.”
Jasper reached out with his snout, sniffing at the air, but when he reached a little too far, an explosion of blue lightning singed his face and the dragon reared back with a barking cry. Terrence tumbled away in an awkward cartwheel, and that left Zola to hang on to a spine by the tips of her fingers.
“As I was saying,” Zola said through gritted teeth before dropping to the earth. “It’s well-guarded.”
“Sam?” A voice echoed around them. “Sam!”
Vicky couldn’t see who it was at first, until Zola cast an illuminada spell. The black and white Atlas moth pattern of the approaching wings came to life, and a silver-armored Fae stood staring at the dragon and his riders.
“Foster?” Sam didn’t say anything more. She hopped off Jasper’s back and ran to the fairy.
“Wait wait wait,” Foster said waving his hands. “Drop the shield!”
Whoever Foster had shouted at formed a gateway in the shield a second before Sam plowed into the fairy. She wrapped her arms around him as if he was the last sane thing on the planet.
“Come on,” Foster said as he gestured at the rest of the group while being strangled by Sam. “Get inside the barrier. We need to lock it down again.”
Jasper snapped into his furball-sized form, shook some of the mud off his fur, and then politely deposited the rest on Vicky’s shoulder. She grimaced at the cold squishy feeling, but figured the rain would take care of it soon enough.
Foster and Sam stayed still for a time. Luna looked up into the rain, her nose twitching along with her ears.
When Zola had enough of waiting, she asked, “Have you seen Aeros? Did Drake survive?”
Sam pulled away from Foster and turned around to face the rest of the group, wiping her cheek on her shoulder before giving Vicky a small smile. Even in the rain, the redness of her eyes revealed the tears.
“He’s here,” Foster said. “It was a near thing. Aeros almost got the both of them killed when
he exploded into the middle of Morrigan’s command tent.”
Zola blinked.
Vicky looked at the old Cajun. “Well, you did tell him to find Morrigan.”
Zola muttered under her breath. “The rock always had a gift for being a bit too literal.”
“Aideen?” Sam asked.
Foster smiled. “She’s okay. Once the lines broke, she came back here. She’s been working with the healers ever since. What happened to Damian?”
“We did,” Vicky said. “I guess, more accurately, Gaia did.”
Foster glanced between Zola and Sam. “Is he …” But the fairy couldn’t finish the question. His gaze trailed back to Vicky.
“He’s safe,” Vicky said.
“Can you take us to Aeros?” Zola asked. “Do you know where he is now?”
Foster blew a short series of whistles that sounded like a songbird. Someone echoed him back and Foster nodded. “Let’s go.”
The blood and mud closer to the barrier gave way to spongy grassland. And what had looked like simple small tents, almost like the plain canvas of an old army, resolved into massive structures, some of which had to have been nearly a city block long. Up close Vicky could make out the intricately sewn battle scenes and celebrations embroidered in a thread just slightly darker than the rest of the fabric.
“They’re beautiful,” Vicky said, running her hand along the edge of one of the tents.
“Yes, they are,” Foster said. “They’re meant for celebrations, coronations, but not battlefields.”
“Battles often result in one or two of those events,” Zola said.
Foster gave her a wry smile before he pulled the flap of the tent in front of them open, and ushered the group inside a room not unlike a cathedral hall. Only this hall was longer, and filled with cots and explosions of white that didn’t give off nearly as much light as they should. Rows upon rows of healers worked at the cots, and in the distance, Vicky could hear the cries of the dying, the ones the healers couldn’t save.
“This feels familiar,” Terrence said.
Foster nodded.
Vicky squinted in the direction Foster gestured and blinked in surprise she realized that the reinforcement at the base of one of the massive tent poles was actually the old god with his knees drawn up and his arms resting in his lap. As they drew closer, the golden green and yellow glow of the old god’s eyes landed on their party.
