Angst Box Set 2

by David Pedersen

  “I, uh,” Angst floundered for words.

  “Sorry,” Jaden whispered, patting his chest plate. “Just glad you’re safe, old man.”

  “I’m fine,” Angst said, pulling away. Where had that come from? He would’ve expected Jaden to lash out at Victoria’s affections, but instead, he smiled.

  “What now?” Mirim asked.

  “We grab the foci,” he said, pointing at the distant horn. “And get out of here before that nightmare figures out how to crawl out and eat our brains.”

  “Foci?” Victoria asked.

  “It’s a key, of sorts,” Alloria said. “Prendere is guarded by a barrier, and playing that horn lowers it.”

  “You seem to know quite a bit about this,” Mirim said, warily.

  “I spent a lot of time with an element who’s planning to win,” she said.

  “So, if we leave it here,” Mirim said, “Magic can’t get through the barrier?”

  “And I can’t save my family,” Angst said, resolutely. “Not an option.”

  “Then we fight?” Jaden asked.

  “Here? Now?” Victoria said, exasperated. “We’re all exhausted and fading fast. Can’t we just step outside and discuss after our heads clear?”

  “What about rock-paper-scissors?” Angst said with a sigh. “Did anyone bring dice?”

  Tired smiles and shaking heads made him wonder if they were just going to stand here. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his friends, and it took so much concentration to keep his focus that they could’ve beaten him down with a feather duster. He had to get over this nightmare pit with Alloria, grab the foci, and escape this place before losing his mind. What he needed was a distraction.

  “Stop,” Dallow called. Everyone turned to watch the tall man stumble toward them with Nikkola close behind. He was gasping for breath and hard to understand. “Don’t fight Angst. No need…just keep him from…”

  “Thanks,” Angst called out. Holding onto their escape vine with one hand and wrapping his arm around Alloria with the other, he swung over the pit to the foci.

  It wasn’t that easy or that smooth. Alloria was light enough to lift, but he was physically exhausted. With little magic and willpower remaining, he anchored her bones to his armor and pushed that armor to the other side. His toe barely caught the lip as shadows darted hungrily beneath them. Another nudge of will pushed them forward. He released Alloria and tripped over bones to land on his face.

  With a groan, he pushed himself up to see the beautiful, silver horn. The bell wasn’t larger than his hand, and the neck extended to an oval the length of his forearm before stopping at a mouthpiece. His friends’ shouts were lost to the excited thrumming of his heart.

  “Angst, don’t do it,” Dallow cried.

  “Do it,” Alloria said, licking her lips.

  Holding his breath, Angst took the foci in both hands and lifted it. Cornuclav blared through his mind, the song of a hundred horns. It was a beautiful, proud introduction that befitted this key to the gateway of wishes. He could sense its great power that felt so different than his own foci. Cornuclav served one purpose, and it was time to put the foci to use.

  “See,” he said turning around, holding the horn up high for his friends to view. “What could possibly go wrong now?”

  The light from his sun popped and went dark, returning the city to shadows.

  “Felk.”

  42

  As a youth, Maarja had once snuck up on a pride of sleeping frost lions. Few her age were adept enough to attempt the feat, and less were willing to try. Frost lions had the propensity to be extremely sensitive to their surroundings, and unforgiving to intruders. Seeking a cub to raise as a pet, she’d brought a satchel to carry it home, but no weapons to speak of other than a small dagger.

  On arrival, she immediately realized her mistake. Foliage and stone outcrops shadowed the entrances to a dozen or more dens. Grabbing a cub would wake its mother and alert them all. She’d come prepared to deal with a single cat, but not a pride.

  Turning away from the sleeping lions, she found a lioness waiting on her path. The great white cat was much larger than she’d expected, and its hungry licking made her freeze. Running would only bring chase that could wake the others; fighting most certainly would wake them.

  Wiping away tears of frustration, she unsheathed her dagger and crouched to attack. The lioness took this as a cue and pounced.

  Jarle grasped the back of the lioness’s scruff mid-leap and held it at a safe distance. After a tumultuous battle of biting and swiping at the air, the great cat finally gave up, hanging limply from his hand. Jarle brought it around until they made eye contact, and the lioness cowered. He thwapped it on the nose and tossed it far into the woods.

  Jarle quietly waved Maarja over. With a frown, he grasped the back of her neck, not unlike the lioness, and marched her out of the forest. The talking to had been stern. He was equally upset that she’d put herself in danger and put the frost lions in jeopardy. If the lions had eaten her, the Nordruaut would’ve had to kill the entire pride.

  The first lesson learned was simple. Don’t sneak up on a pride of sleeping lions or you will spend a month scrubbing pots and skinning game. The second lesson took longer to understand. “Do not kill the pride for a cub,” Jarle said. She’d originally taken this as, “Don’t be greedy,” but over the years had come to understand it as, “Selfish choices will cost you everything.”

  She often reflected on the memory when sneaking through woods, and longed for Jarle’s wisdom now more than ever. Waking this den of lions would cost her everything, but saving Tarness was only a little selfish, and she had grown to become a more formidable hunter.

  Jintorich’s feet gripped tight to her shoulder as they rounded a large tree to find her husband. Tarness lay on his side, bound tight like a package ready to be shipped. Jintorich hopped to the ground and quickly made his way to Tarness while she searched nearby for guards.

  The sounds of Jintorich’s bird-call-whistle and her husband moaning brought her back after a quick pass. Tarness was rocking back and forth, his eyes wide as he sputtered around his gag.

  “Shush,” she said, holding him still while Jintorich untied him.

  “Tarp,” Tarness mouthed around the loosening gag. “Ith a tarp.”

  “What’s a tarp?” the Meldusian squeaked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Humans are so odd.”

  Tarness rolled his eyes. When Jintorich finally freed his mouth, Tarness blurted out, “Trap. I said it’s a trap, not a tarp.”

  “I saw no one,” Maarja said, rolling him to his stomach. She wielded her knife to cut him free and eyed the ring. He would not be unattractive with only nine fingers.

  “Hurry,” Jintorich said. “They’re coming.”

  Maarja gave up on the finger idea and sawed the ropes until her husband was free. He pushed himself up and climbed out of leftover restraints. They looked at each other for several breaths.

  “Later,” Jintorich said. “We need to go.”

  “Please, take your time,” Bryymel said as he entered the clearing, followed closely by Rasaol and Niihlu.

  “We can take them,” Jintorich said, his staff glowing brightly.

  “No, we can’t,” Maarja said. “That’s not Bryymel.”

  “I’m impressed,” Bryymel said. His body shrank and reformed until all signs of the Nordruaut were replaced with a tall, bald, awkward-looking man.

  “How did you know?” Magic asked.

  “Bryymel was paranoid,” Maarja said. “He was never intelligent enough to be devious.”

  “Clever,” Magic said.

  “Run or fight?” Jintorich asked.

  “Neither,” Maarja said. “They could alert the others before we escape. Had they intended to fight, they would’ve already attacked.”

  “What do you want now?” Tarness asked, standing before Maarja.

  “Come with me to fight Angst,” Magic said, “or your family
dies.”

  “My family,” Tarness said. “You mean Maarja and Jin?”

  “Tarness, he means me,” she said. “And our child.”

  “What?” he asked, turning around. “I didn’t know…you never said.”

  “It seems we have both been less than truthful,” she said. “I am sorry, husband.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Tarness said, tears brimming in his eyes. “I think I can fix this.”

  “I believe in you,” she said. “I will never stop believing in you again.”

  “I believe in us,” Tarness said.

  “I believe I’m going to be ill,” Magic said in a snide tone. “I enjoyed it more when everyone was lying.”

  “How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” Tarness asked.

  “They are only useful to me alive,” Magic said, swinging his arm round and round until colors swirled together into a dark, vertical pool. “It’s time we leave.”

  “Take care of her, Jin,” Tarness said as he approached the portal.

  “I said nothing about saving the Al’eyrn,” Magic said, shoving Tarness through the dark hole. “Leave the woman but kill the Al’eyrn as many times as it takes.”

  As Magic disappeared through the portal, Maarja realized that she was not the hunter, but the lioness. The element had no idea how much this would cost him.

  “I will not strike down a pregnant woman,” Rasaol said, holding up both hands.

  “That will make this easy,” she said, leaping forward and tackling the large man.

  She punched his gut and elbowed his chin as they rolled down an embankment, leaving behind explosions of light. Jintorich let out a high-pitched war cry as two foci met with an ear-jarring crack.

  There was no way Jintorich would survive that battle alone. Niihlu was a mountain taller and now wielded two foci. She had to dispatch the old king quickly to save her friend. Maybe together they could stop Niihlu.

  “Enough,” Rasaol shouted, grasping her shoulders and holding her down. “This war is almost over. You and your child will enjoy a peaceful Ehrde when Magic wins Prendere for Nordruaut.”

  “You old fool,” Maarja said, struggling to free herself. “Magic wants Prendere for himself, not for us. He would destroy us all for his greed.”

  “And you do not know Magic as I do,” he said. “He has helped us for years. The element wants what is best for Nordruaut. He provided us with our champion, Niihlu, and led me to Jarle so I could end this war.”

  “You killed Jarle?” she asked.

  “I had to, he found me with Magic,” he said. The wild look on his face, outlined by the flashing lights of the ongoing battle between Jintorich and Niihlu, was horrifying. Rasaol grabbed a long hunting knife from his thigh and raised it high overhead. “You leave me no choice. I cannot have you telling the others when we are so close to victory.”

  As King Rasaol rocked down, Maarja shoved her dagger into his neck. Hot blood splattered her face, and the king collapsed to his side. She scrambled away to see Gose’s spear jutting from his back.

  The young Nordruaut leader offered her a hand.

  “You…you heard?” she asked, gladfully accepting his help up.

  “Enough,” he said. “Let’s free your husband and hear the rest of this story.”

  “Tarness,” she said in a panic. “Jin.”

  The battle on the hill was silent. She jerked the spear from Rasaol’s back and rushed up the hill. Niihlu would see what a lioness could do. Reaching the top, Maarja leaped high with the weapon in both hands. She could only hope for a second of surprise before the Al’eyrn would defend himself. The surprise was hers.

  She landed beside Jintorich and looked about the clearing in amazement. The Meldusian stood with his legs apart in a battle stance, the staff touching the ground before him. The white glow from his staff revealed hundreds of colorful ice shards spread around them. The axe Ghorjfend and the necklace foci lay amidst the shards.

  “My friend, you are okay?” she asked. “What happened.”

  Gose crested the hilltop, followed by several others with torches, all eyeing the Meldusian with caution.

  “In my attempt to help your husband, I’ve learned much about removing foci,” Jintorich said. “My spells didn’t work on Magic’s ring but did work on this necklace that had no desire to be worn by a false Al’eyrn. With the necklace gone, Niihlu froze.”

  “So, all of this ice…is Niihlu?” Gose asked, swallowing hard. “What about Tarness?”

  “Magic stole my husband,” Maarja said, her worry returning. “Jintorich, what do we do?”

  “We save him,” Jintorich said.

  43

  The light from Dallow’s outstretched hand revealed shadowy figures boiling over the pit. Panic gave Angst enough strength to swing back on the vine with Alloria in his arms and the horn tucked neatly between his legs. Jaden caught them on the other side and pulled them past the brink.

  “I don’t believe you swung on a vine with her,” Victoria snapped. “I should push you back in.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Dallow asked. “If you’d left the foci there, Magic would never get to Prendere. It would’ve ended the cycle of element wars forever.”

  “Oh,” Angst said, scratching the back of his neck.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Captain Mirim said, pointing to the pit. “The Cursed is coming.”

  The dark monstrosity that slowly rose behind Mirim was hard to see in Dallow’s faint light. Cold tendrils wrapping around their feet and the guttural, slavering sound of pure hunger introduced him to a new level of fear.

  “She’s right,” Victoria said. “We need to run.”

  “What are you going to do with the horn?” Dallow said. “Those two swords have already made you crazy. You don’t need a third foci.”

  Angst reached out, set the horn in Alloria’s arms, and let go. To everyone’s amazement, she didn’t drop it.

  “Pretty,” she said in wonder.

  “It makes sense,” Victoria said. “Alloria was able to hold Jormbrinder, too.”

  “The only thing that makes sense is running,” Mirim shouted. “Jaden, help me with the brothers. Angst, keep that monster off our tail while Dallow provides us light.”

  “Follow me,” Alloria said. “I know the way out.”

  Angst grabbed his swords and jogged behind them, tripping over vines as he constantly looked over his shoulder. They were moving too slowly, and no amount of fear could push through their exhaustion. The hungry vines and the shadow curse were overwhelming. Angst hastily threw up an air shield that shattered instantly beneath a swiping blow from The Cursed.

  “What is that?” Dallow asked. “What are we fighting?”

  “Like the monster said, it’s the curse,” Angst said, gasping for air. “Everyone who lived here leaked sanity that formed shadows and killed them. The shadows never went away, and that’s apparently their leader.”

  “That’s horrifying,” Nikkola cried.

  “Air shields aren’t stopping it, and my foci aren’t telling me anything,” Angst said.

  “Shield us with another element,” Dallow said. “Try all of the elements.”

  “I hunger for your shadow, and thirst for your life,” The Cursed said in a booming voice.

  Nikkola and Simon both screamed in fear as shadowy arms grasped through them.

  “I will eat your body and cover my home with your bones.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Angst said. “Everyone, faster.”

  Angst drew in what power he could from the foci, and created a barrier of everything and his grandma’s old hat. A layer of air, fire, dirt from the ground, and sweat from their pores created what looked like a floating grease pit. The shadow king pounded on it again and again as it lumbered after them.

  “You’d make a great foci, Dallow,” Angst said.

  “Gee, thanks,” Dallow said. “How much further.”

  “Just ahead,” Alloria said, pointing with the horn foci.

&
nbsp; “It’s a wall of vine,” Victoria said.

  “They’ll give way when we push through,” Angst said. “It’s gross, but better than this.”

  The Cursed struck with such might that Angst stumbled. He somehow caught himself only to glimpse a thin crack in the shield. His source of water was drying up along with his tongue; they must all be getting dehydrated. Reaching out with his mind, he located an underground river that was too far down to access without stopping.

  As they slowed along the city’s edge, The Cursed struck his shield again and again. Cracks became a spider web, and soon gaps appeared that were barely held together by his exhausted will. Alloria pushed them through single file, every moment passing by slower and slower.

  “I won’t last much longer,” Angst called out.

  “You won’t need to,” Alloria said. “You did it, baby. It’s done.”

  Her shadow had been completely replaced by a glow of golden light that surrounded her. She pulled him into that light, and into her protection. Despite every angry blow, The Cursed was no match for what this place had done to her. She led him through the shield of vines, with less kissing this time, until they were back at the patio.

  While the exhaustion was still there—wasn’t it always?—clarity returned like he’d just woken up. It wasn’t only a relief; it was realization. Everyone was worried that he was going mad, but being in Gyldorane was the only time he’d felt his sanity slipping. Out here, he wasn’t going crazy, and that was a relief. His decisions didn’t always make sense to others, but they were still his and not some foci madness.

  Screams from The Cursed were muffled by layers of vine as he pounded away in frustration.

  “I said shut up,” Angst yelled toward the mage city.

  Everyone was sprawled around the patio like they’d been spilled from the city. Everyone. Tired was better than dead. He really wanted to get away from this place, but it was unlikely anyone would hop up, ready to go.

  “You did it, baby,” Alloria said, wrapping her tentacle arms around him and planting a juicy kiss on his cheek.