by Hunter Blain
Val whirled on me, dropping his Southern twang as he said, “You think me stupid, abomination? If I give you—of all people—any of these powerful artifacts, I might as well be handing them over to the enemy. What good they might do you in your ungraceful hands is nothing in comparison to what evil might be brandished by the dark Fae.”
I held my hands up in placation as I said, “Alright, alright. I get it. I appreciate the help you have given us, Val.”
Locke found something interesting on the ground near his feet to look at as he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Valenta waited for another dumbass comment from me before turning to stride toward our destiny.
We followed him down the hallway and toward the room of portals.
“My God,” Locke exhaled as he looked around, instantly recognizing what he was looking at. Joey kept his focused eyes forward, not interested in anything but the door that led to his revenge.
Val approached the same portal as before. He placed a hand on the doorway, and the air shimmered into a dark scene beyond.
With his drawl back, Val said, “B’careful, boy. Bring back Raziel. Y’hear?”
“We will,” Locke answered before I could. He was starting to piss me off with the whole “friend of my friend” thing. I didn’t like the feeling of being replaced, and I could admit that to myself.
You ready for this? I asked Baleius.
He looked me dead in my eyes and said, Not really. But what choice do I have?
None. I gave him a half-hearted smile before stepping through the portal and into the darkness of Faerie.
17
As I stepped through into the Fae plane, a huge weight was applied to my body, pushing me toward the ground. I stumbled a few steps before catching myself against a wall made out of logs.
Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes and tried to acclimate to my mortal predicament as quickly as I could.
I looked around and became dizzy before a burning in my chest told me to breathe. I sucked in a deep breath and felt my heart race as I started to hyperventilate.
“Breathe, John. In, one two, out, one two,” Depweg said, rushing to my side and placing a hand on my back. “In, one two, out, one two,” he said again.
I followed his instructions, and the black bugs swimming in my vision began to thin out before disappearing completely.
“Being mortal sucks!” I said between deep, controlled breaths. The air smelled like flowers and leather. I sniffed the air, confused, before my nose touched my shoulder. I continued to sniff as I moved my arm in front of my face, smelling the leather of my trench coat.
“You act like you’ve never smelled your own coat before,” Locke said as he wiggled his fingers in the air, testing his powers. The air refused to crackle with his usual green-and-purple energy signature. He frowned slightly.
“Well, normally each smell is distinct and identifiable. Right now, everything is a mix of smells that I can’t really tell apart. Just smells like leathery flowers or something.”
“I understand what you’re getting at,” Depweg confided. “You’ll get used to it in about five minutes and won’t even notice.”
“Odd I didn’t notice before,” I said to myself.
“Doesn’t matter. We are here for a mission,” Joey said flatly, bordering on aggression.
A small crackle of electricity shot between Locke’s fingers as he focused.
“Hmm. Elemental magic is still accessible,” Locke mused.
“That’s good, right?” I asked hopefully.
“I must confess that I am quite the novice when it comes to elemental magic. I have always relied on, and perfected, my warlock abilities. Never seemed to have time for the more—basic—magic.”
“Someone learned how to sprint before he could crawl,” I poked.
Locke ignored me. He was good at that.
After checking our automatic rifles, we positioned them in hand with the barrels pointed down. We made our way outside—which was as dark as our plane—with Depweg in the lead and the rest of the team spread out in even increments in a straight line parallel to the road. Behind him was me, followed by Locke, with Joey bringing up the rear. I looked over my shoulder to see Joey’s head on a swivel, checking all around. I was impressed at his discipline. Then again, I didn’t know what I had expected from a packmate of the military man at the front of the squad.
Depweg signaled to spread out, but I quickly waved off the idea, remembering the fairies that had almost eaten me. He nodded, and the fire team remained on the road.
After several minutes of walking, I became alarmed that my knees had begun squeaking with every labored step. Sweat drenched my shirt, and I was tempted to remove my trench coat; but with nowhere to place it, I opted to endure rather than leave it behind. I was perturbed to notice I was the only one breathing heavily.
A few more minutes of walking, and we came up to a familiar bridge. As we crossed it, my old troll buddy popped out from underneath and stood, blocking our path. He smiled hugely as he recognized me.
I walked briskly past Depweg and straight to the troll, my thumb removing the latch on my Glock.
“Well, well, well,” was all the troll got out before I placed the firearm against his forehead and squeezed the trigger once. One of his eyes rolled downward in its socket as a red mist plumed outward from the apple-sized hole in the back of his skull. The other eye stared straight ahead, going glassy and unfocused. For some reason, I thought about how odd it was that his head had been rocked forward—almost knocking the gun from my hand—as the bullet had exploded out the back of his head. He collapsed straight down before crumpling to the side of the bridge. I gave him a swift kick in the ass, and he toppled to the water below with a satisfying splash.
“Feel better?” Depweg asked.
“Much,” I answered.
“I hope so, because you just announced our arrival,” he finished, shaking his head while pinching the bridge of his nose. “No more surprises, please.”
“Um, ten-four copy on that roger roger,” I said, embarrassed.
“Fall in line,” Depweg commanded as he continued toward the castle. He picked up his pace, and I wasn’t sure if it was a tactical decision or a punishment for me.
As we approached the world tree, which was now made of stone—at least on this plane—Depweg held up his fist in a silent command to halt. We did as instructed, with Joey turning to face our six and kneeling, his gun at the ready.
Depweg scanned the horizon, choosing the best angle of approach. He made his decision and motioned forward. We headed toward the city but away from the main door. I wanted to question why not the simplest approach when I saw what Depweg had been looking for.
A side entrance—probably reserved for deliveries or some other necessary purpose—came into view. Rather than being impressive and flanked by high turrets on either side, it was just a simple wooden door. Depweg pulled out a small pair of expensive-looking binoculars and scanned the distance. He held up one finger, indicating a single target.
I squinted to see a lone Shadow guard standing at the ready five feet in front of the entrance, his head scanning back and forth. Seeing just one when I was already used to seeing scores was odd. His purple eyes darted restlessly in a one-eighty-degree radius in front of him. Minus the eyes, nothing else was discernible about him. Heck, the only reason we had even seen him was because 1) Depweg was expecting a guard at the door and 2) the purple eyes in the darkness were somewhat noticeable. Terrible design flaw.
Depweg turned to face Locke, who nodded in response. They had just had an entire conversation without a word, and that green monster in my chest lashed out to make me tighten my jaw. Baleius wasn’t here, so I knew the jealousy was all me.
Locke unslung his hilariously large rifle as Depweg sat on the ground, cross-legged. Locke placed the middle of the long barrel on Depweg’s massive shoulder and flipped open the covers on either end of the scope. I was expecting him to prime the lever, but all he
did was move a switch near his thumb, taking the weapon out of safe. He sighted the target, took in a deep breath, and began to release it slowly. As he did, his finger squeezed the trigger and a muffled pop sounded, like briefly activating one of those air machines for your tires you could find at gas stations. I was supremely impressed at how quiet the report of the weapon was with the suppressor.
I looked to the target after my brief awe-fest with the Lapua and saw a head was missing from atop his shoulders. The body slumped to the ground before evaporating into the night air like a fart in the wind.
“That’s helpful,” I whispered. “No bodies to worry about.”
Depweg held up a fist beside his head while looking right at me.
Locke charged the handle and released the empty casing, which he caught in midair and pocketed before returning the bolt, locking another round in place.
“Show off,” I whispered as we made our way to the side entrance. Depweg shot a scowl my way, and I pantomimed zipping my mouth shut.
We hugged the wall, letting Depweg examine the door as we kept watch all around us. He approached the wooden door and cautiously pulled on the brass handle. It opened without protest as Depweg did a quick sweep with his Sig rifle. Once it was evident that the coast was clear, he motioned for us to follow him into the grounds.
Inside, it was eerily quiet for how big the area was. There was something about large spaces that you knew were supposed to be teeming with people that made my nerves stand on end. Ever been in a mall at closing, alone, when all the gates were closed and the lights were turned low? It felt…wrong. But I could only surmise I felt this way because I was a freaking mortal and balls deep in the Shadow Court–controlled Faerie.
Depweg looked at me and I pointed toward where I thought the path was that led to the castle. He briskly nodded once before sighting his automatic rifle in front of him and making his way forward at a slight crouch.
We made our way through the dark, empty city that had once been bustling with faeries of all flavors. I was surprised to find a lack of patrol from the Shadow creeps as we approached the giant entrance to the castle proper.
I hustled to walk next to Depweg and whispered, “How the dickens are we going to get to the other side of that wall?” As I spoke, my eyes walked up the massive stone barrier that stood between us and our friends.
Depweg answered by holding a finger up to his lips this time, dropping the military fist-up gesture in exchange for a layman’s one. Annoyed, I did as told and fell back in line as we came to a spot on the wall next to the huge wooden gate. We formed a line as Depweg pulled something from one of the large pockets on the side of his legs. It was a thin can that looked like it could have been a Red Bull drink, only it had a small red trigger under the nozzle. He gave it a few shakes before placing the nozzle against the wood and pressing a release on the top of the can with his thumb. Safety disengaged, Depweg squeezed the red plastic trigger and coated the wood in a circle of white foam big enough to walk through. It grew slightly before solidifying in place.
Depweg placed the can back in his pocket before stepping to the side. He pulled out a rod the size of a pen and clicked the button on the side once in test. A small blue arc of electricity came to life at the end of the pen, which Depweg placed against the hardened foam. He clicked the pen once more and pulled his arm back quickly as the entire circle engulfed in a bright, white flame that hurt to look at. I shielded my eyes while stifling a cry of surprise as the circle began eating into the wood. Within a few seconds, it had eaten through the thick door before burning itself out in a sudden flash of light.
I rubbed at my eyes, blinking away the pain in my pupils. They had rushed to constrict at the blinding light.
As my vision slowly came back, Depweg addressed the group in a hushed whisper, “We probably don’t have much time now, so let’s turn on the high speed.”
“Copy,” Joey and Locke whispered in unison.
“Copy,” I added lamely while looking back and forth between my fire team.
Depweg went through the hole and we followed suit. Once Joey was through, Depweg took off toward the castle at a moderate run, keeping his rifle muzzle down rather than attempting to try and sight anything at that pace.
I did my best to prevent my labored breathing from turning into loud wheezes that might as well have been cowbells attached to my boots. Lilith, I really needed to drop some el-bee’s. Oh, wait, I can’t change my body as a vampire. Maybe I’d get lucky and burn twenty or thirty pounds of fat while still a mortal. And what the hell was this? My lower back felt warm and tight all of a sudden.
Depweg cleared the entrance and began clearing adjacent rooms down the stone hallway that led to the throne room.
“Look for stairs,” Depweg whispered over his shoulder.
“Copy,” I said quickly between labored breaths while Joey and Locke said nothing. I sighed and brought my rifle up, trying my best to take deep, controlled breaths before I threw up. Sweat stung my eyes, and I was alarmed to discover that I must have forgotten to put my underwear in the dryer before putting it on. All I knew was that these boxer briefs were going in the trash later, if they didn’t dissolve in the next few hours, that is.
Depweg came out of a cleared room and saw me take an obvious adjustment step to the side. He smiled before whispering, “Compression shorts.”
“Here,” Locke called out, coming out of a thin stairwell down an adjacent hallway. We beelined over to where he stood and filed down the spiral staircase with our rifles up and left hand on the right shoulder of the person in front of us.
As we stepped onto the landing at the base of the stairs, we spread out in a half circle, with Joey watching the stairwell behind us. In front of us was the typical dungeon that you would expect to see in any medieval movie. An assortment of torture devices littered the room, vying for dominance. I recognized about three quarters of the machines in the dungeon. It was like I was in a 24 Hour Fitness; but for torture.
Depweg began clearing the cells that lined the left wall while Locke repeated the process on the opposite side. Joey stayed crouched at the stairwell, his rifle covering the only entrance to the floor.
Something tugged at my attention, and I began a fast walk to the backmost cell against the far wall. It was the only cell there, and it connected the left- and right-side cells in a perfect U shape.
Locke and Depweg looked up as I strode past them, heedless of the standard clearing protocol. Locke motioned at me to get back into formation, but I ignored him.
I began jogging until I reached the back cell, grabbing the thick iron bars that I was vacantly surprised weren’t making my hands tingle. The fact that I was a mortal became the least important thing in the world as I peered through the bars to see something that took my breath away.
A human-sized Da stood chained against the far wall, naked and bloody. His arms were out and above his head, while his legs slumped to the side. Da was unconscious, and his weight was being borne solely by his wrists. Dried blood caked from his shackled arms down to his armpits and then to his waist. Even his legs had black crust from the mass exodus of blood from his densely scabbed wrists.
“Da,” I whispered. He didn’t respond, though his chest heaved slightly. I was relieved to see he was breathing. But relief was eroded to be replaced by worry once I realized his breaths were coming in shallow, with several seconds of pause in between.
“Da,” I said louder.
“John!” Depweg whispered harshly as he approached. Then his eyes locked onto our friend, and his demeanor stiffened. Depweg had the experience and mind of a marine, so had been mentally prepared to find the most horrific of scenes. So for him to stiffen was the equivalent of a normal person collapsing to their knees and screaming.
“Find Ludvig and Magni,” I told him, breaking Depweg from his stunned state and taking command of the situation.
Depweg didn’t say anything as he stared at Da and lifted his hand to reveal an iron skele
ton key.
“Found this on the wall back there,” Depweg said weakly as he inserted the key into the lock and turned it. His eyes never left the cell. A clang sounded before he retrieved the key and broke away to walk to Locke, who was motioning toward him. Locke gave a thumbs-up as he pointed with his other hand to two cells on the wall. A small semblance of peace entered my mind to know they had found the hunters; but that wasn’t my main concern right now.
With numb hands, I pulled on the iron cell door and entered on weak legs. I began taking in ragged breaths as I walked in what felt like slow motion. My vision began to blur as the full impact of what had happened to my friend of several decades became clearer. I wiped at the tears that were forming and called again with a voice that trembled, “D-Da?”
My hand gently touched his cheek and he snorted awake, terror in his eyes. His lips were cracked and began to bleed as his mouth tried to work, mouthing the word “no” over and over as he squirmed. Every rib could be counted through thin, dirt-covered skin. Even his thighbones were evident. Da’s eyes were sunken and bloodshot, accented by sockets that looked like horror movie prosthetics. A deep and dark feeling emanated from my chest as I realized in an instant how much he had suffered; and for so long.
“Da…Da, it’s me. It’s John,” I said as reassuringly as I could. My bottom lip and brows quivered in sync with each other. “It’s okay, man. I’m here, now. I’m here.” Da stared with trembling, disbelieving eyes. Then they stopped shaking and squinted as if he were seeing me for the first time. Recognition smoothed his features.
“J-John?” Da said with a hoarse voice that sounded scarred from years of screaming.
I turned and saw a bucket of water by the door with a wooden ladle sticking out of it. I gagged as I walked to it, seeing unknown debris floating throughout. Having no other option, I brought the water-filled bucket over to Da, who responded by squirming and staring wide-eyed at the water like a dying man in a sweltering desert. I had never seen my friend so demeaned and broken, and furious anger began to crawl under my skin as I spoon-fed him the foul-smelling water. I stirred the surface, trying to move the debris sitting on top out of the way to allow access to as much clean water as possible. It was a hopeless battle.
