by Lucas Flint
“We don’t know how it works, either,” said Captain Galaxy, shaking her head. “We only know that it does and that none of our technology is advanced enough to find it whenever it hides. We suspect that she teleports it to another dimension whenever we show up, but we’re not sure.”
“That’s a novel way to avoid someone you don’t want to talk to,” said Hypno, scratching his chin. “Simply teleport your house into another dimension entirely and then come back when the person you dislike leaves. That would have been helpful when I was dealing with my crazy ex a few years back.”
“Well, it’s a good sign regardless,” said Aster. He drew his energy blade from his side and turned it on, causing the white-hot energy blade to explode into existence. “Let’s keep going and get there before she changes her mind and decides she doesn’t want to talk to us.”
Aster resumed their trek through the forest, hacking and slashing through the undergrowth with experienced ease. Captain Galaxy and Hypno followed and then Bolt took up the rear. Although it was unlikely that anyone would follow them here, it was agreed that Bolt should stay in the back of their group to provide defense against possible ambushes. So far, they hadn’t run into anyone, hostile or friendly, but it was better to be safe than sorry. At least, that was what Aster had said, which surprised Bolt because he would never have taken Aster as a cautious type.
Maybe becoming the new Agency Chief has made him more responsible, Bolt thought, glancing at the back of Aster’s helmet as they walked. Kind of like when I became the leader of the Young Neos. Guess leadership means you can’t just do whatever you want without risking the lives of your subordinates.
Bolt looked around the massive forest as they walked. He was never much of a nature guy like his friend Treehugger, but even he had to admit to having his breath taken away by these massive trees. Even someone as ignorant about nature as him could tell that these trees were older than anything else he had seen, maybe as old as the Dread God, though he had a feeling they predated even him.
Maybe I’ll come back here someday to see more of this place, Bolt thought. This would make a great place to take Blizzard out on a date. She’s always loved nature walks and you can’t get more natural than this.
But Bolt shook his head and refocused his attention on his surroundings. Although the Endless Forest was supposedly devoid of sentient life, Bolt knew from experience that letting your attention wander when traveling in a new and unfamiliar was always a recipe for disaster. His fingertips crackled with red electricity as his eyes darted around, keeping a close eye for any suspicious movements in the trees above or around them.
Despite that, Bolt’s thoughts wandered back to the reason they had come here in the first place.
According to Chief Aster, this place was called the Endless Forest. It was some kind of interdimensional hub, where portals appeared between the trees, linking the different universes together. It was so-called because the Forest, as far as anyone knew, stretched on forever and ever in every direction. It was in some ways a physical representation of the multiverse itself, a massive, infinite sprawl that no one could ever even hope to explore in its entirety even if they lived forever.
But they weren’t here to admire the scenery or study the mystical properties of the Endless Forest itself. No, they were here to meet the Forest’s sole inhabitant: A being who Aster referred to as the Spirit of the Woods.
The Spirit of the Woods was supposedly the ruler and protector of this realm. Her true nature and origins were a mystery even to the IEA, but what was known was that she was very powerful and knowledgeable about the multiverse. Some sources even suggested that she was literally omniscient, aware of everything going on in every universe at every time. She never acted on this knowledge, though, or ever did anything other than occasionally guide travelers who somehow ended up in her forest back to their homes.
Aster claimed that if anyone knew where the Starborn were, then it would have to be the Spirit. That made sense to Bolt, because if the Spirit was omniscient, then she logically should know the location of literally everything in the multiverse.
Even the Dread God, Bolt thought. Perhaps we can ask her where he is, too, once we find her. That would be helpful.
The only problem was, apparently, that the Spirit and the IEA were not on particularly good terms. Bolt had pressed Aster for details, but Aster had been very reluctant to explain what they had done to piss off the Spirit. Captain Galaxy wasn’t any more willing to speak of it than Aster, only to say that relations had soured before she joined the Agency and that was about all she really knew about it, though Bolt knew that she was only refusing to give him any details because she was following Aster’s lead.
The only thing Bolt knew for sure was that whatever the IEA did hadn’t been bad enough to make the Spirit want to kill them all if they showed up in her realm. Instead, the Spirit usually hid her castle anytime someone from the IEA showed up so she could avoid talking to them. It had been decades since anyone from the IEA had spoken to the Spirit, which was part of the reason why the files on her were so sparse.
One thing they did know, however, was that the Spirit was generally benevolent and that she would most likely be willing to help them if they told her about the Dread God. It was highly probable that the Spirit already knew about the Dread God and his resurrection, but the Spirit did not seem to have acted against him yet. Why that was, no one knew, but it didn’t matter. As long as the Spirit was willing to tell them where the Starborn were, Bolt figured they would be okay.
Hope this works, Bolt thought. Because if it doesn’t, then we’ll have to depend on Beams and the others to find the God Slayer. And if they can’t do that … well, we’ll figure something out, I’m sure.
“Does anyone besides me smell smoke?” said Hypno, coming to a stop suddenly.
Aster stopped and looked over his shoulder at Hypno. “Oh, you’re probably just smelling the smoke from my energy blade cutting through the trees. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“No, it’s something much stronger than that,” Hypno insisted. “Can you smell it? It’s very close.”
Bolt raised his nose to the air and sniffed. Hot smoke entered his nostrils and he grimaced. “Hypno’s right. There must be a fire nearby or something.”
“A fire?” said Captain Galaxy with a frown. “Here? Are you sure?”
“Why would the Spirit start a fire in her own forest?” said Aster. “It must be something else.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s a fire,” said Hypno. He walked off their beaten path into the bushes off to the side. “It’s coming from over here. It’s very strong.”
Bolt walked after Hypno and Captain Galaxy and Aster followed, but they didn’t go very far before they emerged from the trees into a small clearing and saw a sight none of them would ever forget.
A massive fire was burning through the trees eating through the roots and burning up the grass. As they watched, one of the massive trees suddenly creaked and then fell over backward, causing a small tremor to shake the ground, while one of the massive branches of another nearby tree burnt off. Huge flames crawled up the trunks of several trees, while one tree was nothing but a pillar of burning flame, all of its leaves burned off and its bark blackened as dark as midnight.
Thick black smoke billowed into the sky, forcing Bolt to cover his mouth and nose to avoid inhaling it in.
“What the hell?” said Captain Galaxy, staring with disbelief at the massive forest fire raging before them. “Where did this come from? Bolt, did you see it when you were flying earlier?”
Bolt shook his head. “No, I didn’t see any smoke or flames at all. Of course, I wasn’t up there very long, but it’s still weird how I missed this.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Aster. His expression was set in a grim frown. “Forest fires never happen here. The Spirit would never allow it.”
“Has something happened to her?” said Captain Galaxy worryingly. “If this massive fire is raging and the Spiri
t is nowhere to be seen, then doesn’t that mean she might be in trouble?”
“I don’t know about the Spirit, but I do know that she’s in trouble,” said Hypno, pointing into the fire. “Look!”
Bolt squinted and saw that Hypno was right. A scared little girl who couldn’t have been older than six was crouched underneath the trunk of a dead tree, her arms wrapped around her knees and tears streaming down her eyes and snot leaking out of her nostrils. Her hair was a bright green, even in the light of the burning trees, and she seemed to be crying. The trunk was holding up against the flames, but Bolt could tell that it wouldn’t hold up much longer and once it did, it would fall on and crush her.
“A girl?” said Aster in disbelief. “What’s a girl doing here? Where are her parents?”
“Does it matter?” said Bolt. “If we don’t step in and save her quickly, she’ll die.”
“But the flames are too hot for us to approach,” said Captain Galaxy, gesturing at the massive flames tearing across the clearing. “We’ll get burned to a crisp.”
Bolt’s hands balled into fists. “You guys might, but my costume is fireproof. I’ll run in and out before the fire even touches me. You guys just stay here and, if I can’t outrun the fire, just keep going to the Castle. We need to find the Starborn no matter what.”
Before any of them could stop him, Bolt rushed into the flames. The fire bit at his feet as he ran, the heat scorching his exposed skin, but Bolt ignored it as he ran at super speed directly toward the girl. He dodged a falling branch that was on fire and leaped through a gap in the flames before landing on the ground and rushing toward the girl again.
Stopping in front of the girl, Bolt knelt down in front of her and said, “Hey, kid, it’s going to be okay. I’m here to save you. Just take my hand and I’ll get you to safety.”
But the girl, apparently startled by his appearance, backed up against the tree trunk’s wall. Her eyes were huge and round, tears rushing out of them, and that was when Bolt noticed an odd tree-like tattoo under her left eye. It looked very professionally done, to the point where Bolt almost mistook it for a natural birthmark. But the colors and design gave it away as artificial, which made Bolt wonder where she had gotten it.
Pushing that thought out of his mind for the moment, Bolt held out a hand and said, “Come on. I’m not going to hurt you. I know you’re scared, but—”
A crack like lightning made Bolt look up and see a massive branch falling toward him. Before he could dodge, the branch fell on him with a loud crash, pinning him underneath its weight.
CHAPTER THREE
His arms swinging wildly through the air, Beams grabbed a handhold in the cliff face and came to an abrupt halt. His shoulder burned under the stress, at least until he found another handhold and a foothold for him to put his feet. Even then, he still clutched tightly against the frozen rock, shivering violently under the powerful gust of icy cold wind that blew through at that moment.
Above, Beams could hear the howling cries of whatever had just attacked him and his friends. He heard more screams and cries, followed by what sounded like Mr. Space’s sound blaster going off and what might have been Shade’s shadow blades cutting through flesh. But between the howling wind and the war cries coming from everywhere at once, Beams couldn’t hear much else. He could barely even hear his own thoughts. He just clutched to the cliff face, trying his best not to look down, because he knew that if he did, he would let go and plunge to his death. He couldn’t even move, not daring to climb upward in case he let go and fell.
This sucks, Beams thought. I hope Space and Shade defeat whatever is attacking us because there’s no way I can help.
But then, as abruptly as they came, the war cries suddenly ceased. The only noise Beams could hear now, aside from the chattering of his teeth, was the howling wind as it cut through the city and the abandoned buildings within.
“Space?” Beams shouted, trying to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. “Shade? Are you guys there? Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?”
No response, but Beams wasn’t sure if they simply couldn’t hear him over the wind or if they were dead. He didn’t like to think that they were dead, but it was a very real possibility and Rubberman had always taught him that it was better to consider the worst possibility rather than deny it and hope it went away.
All of a sudden, a rope fell down the side of the cliff and landed beside him. Beams looked up again, but he couldn’t see who had thrown it.
“Space? Shade?” Beams called. “Is that you guys?”
Again, no response. That set off alarms in Beams’ head, but it wasn’t like he was in any position to ignore the rope. He didn’t trust his grip on the cliff would hold if he tried going up or down, especially in this weather. Indeed, his grip was already starting to slip and if he fell, he knew he would die.
Taking a deep breath, Beams grabbed the rope. As soon as he got a firm grip on it, Beams was hoisted up. Whoever was pulling the rope must have been very strong, because they pulled Beams up like he weighed nothing at all. In seconds, Beams was back up on the cliff. He let go of the rope and scrambled to his feet, energy blazing in his eyes as he prepared to unleash a laser at his attackers.
But he hesitated when he saw the person standing before him. The person standing before him looked like a very thin, hunchbacked old person, wearing a black, tattered robe that hid his entire body, including his eyes. The old man leaned on an ancient wooden staff, his tattered robe billowing in the wind. Despite how thin and ratty the robe looked, the figure did not seem even remotely cold, because he stood perfectly still like a statue.
Beams blinked. He looked around, but with the storm raging around them, he couldn’t see very far in any direction.
No way this guy took out Shade and Space by himself, Beams thought. … Right?
Keeping a careful eye on the old man, Beams said, “What did you do with my friends? And who are you?”
The old man didn’t move as he spoke. “I would have asked the same question of you, stranger, for you have invaded our territory, the first invaders we have faced in many years.”
The old man’s voice was heavy and deep. It was also somewhat hypnotic, making Beams want to yawn, but he suppressed it because the last thing he needed was to fall asleep in this blizzard in front of a man he wasn’t sure he could trust.
“We’re not invading anything,” said Beams. “We didn’t even know there were people here. We thought the Lost City was abandoned.”
“Lost City?” the old man repeated indignantly. “What an awful name. Its true name is Ariopolis, named in honor of Arius the God Slayer himself.”
Beams’ eyes widened. Arius was his ancestor, the man who originally killed the Dread God in the first place. He hadn’t known, however, that the Lost City was named after him. “You mean people live there?”
“Since the beginning of history, and before that,” said the old man. He suddenly pointed his staff at Beams in a strangely smooth motion. “Defending it from invaders, protecting it from evil, and making it a hostile place to foreigners like you. That is the way of the people of Ariopolis.”
Beams’ hands balled into fists. “Listen, old man, I don’t have time to play with you. Give me back my friends and I won’t hurt you.”
The old man suddenly chuckled. “Ah, so I see that you really don’t understand just how outnumbered you really are. Observe.”
The old man waved his staff like a conductor’s baton. Without warning, the blizzard suddenly vanished, and as the snow went away, Beams saw exactly what the old man meant.
Standing behind the old man were a dozen big, strong burly men wearing strange-looking winter coats. The men all wore face-obscuring hoods, just like the old man, and like the old man, their tattered coats did not seem to provide adequate protection from the cold, though none of them shivered or seemed even remotely cold. Beams might have mistaken them for a pack of grizzly bears because of the size and furriness of their coats. They certain
ly looked as strong as grizzlies, that was for sure.
But what really caught Beams’ attention was the fact that these men held Mr. Space and Shade captive. Mr. Space lay flat on the snow, clearly unconscious from some kind of devastating blow to the head, while Shade was on her knees, her arms twisted behind her back and a bone knife held to her throat in such a way that if she tried to escape she’d just slit her own throat and kill herself. Shade’s mask hid her expression, but Beams could tell based on her body language alone that she was tense and afraid.
“You may try to attack me,” said the old man softly. “Lord knows I have lived many years already. It would be a fitting end for a protector such as myself to die defending the city I love. But would you be willing to sacrifice your own friends in the process?”
Beams gritted his teeth. However primitive the equipment and clothing of these people were, it was obvious they were far craftier and cleverer than they let on. Beams made a mental note to avoid underestimating these people in the future, assuming he survived long enough to have more encounters with them, which was looking less and less likely every second.
“Fine,” said Beams, lowering his hands. “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” said the old man shortly. “You are invaders. All invaders are to be killed immediately. We have only spared you and your friends because we find your presence curious, for it has been several years since the last invaders attacked our city, though we remember very well what we did to them back then.”
“Ripped out their throats,” one of the tribesmen suddenly spoke. He grinned, his hood briefly revealing a mouth full of white, sharpened teeth. “Dumped their bodies over the edge. Ignored their cries for mercy.”
Beams glanced over his shoulder instinctively. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that the rocks at the bottom of the cliff might have actually been a pile of human bones, long grayed from exposure to the elements. A chill went up his spine that had nothing to do with the freezing Antarctic air.
