by Otto Schafer
“Yeah… The dragons are gone, and we need rest. We’re staying here until I get healed and everyone rests up, including you, and then we’ll go.” Garrett looked over at the overturned snack truck lying against the rocks. “Can you grab my pack for me, Pete? No way I can climb in there like this.” He glanced around. “We’ll make camp right here till David wakes up.”
Pete nodded, heading for the truck.
Ed shook his head. “Negative. We’re best to move now and try to find better shelter away from the river. They may know where we are, and the dragons could return any minute.”
“You may be right, Ed,” Garrett started.
“Good. Then let’s start by collecting our bikes and waking up the kid—”
“Wait. I wasn’t finished,” Garrett said, swaying. “You may be right, so go.”
“What?” Ed asked.
Lenny’s eyebrows went up.
“Go, Ed. You’re right. You don’t need us,” Garrett said, pointing into the distance. “You never wanted to do this together and you don’t owe us anything, so go. We’re just holding you back anyway.”
“You serious, kid?” Ed asked. “You’re going to try and lead your little buddies to Mexico on your own?”
“Not on my own, Ed. We’re a team. We’re doing this together. The sages stay together.”
Ed shook his head. “Right, you won’t make it five more miles on your own. Come on, Paul, you heard the kid. They’re on their own.” Ed slung his pack over his shoulder.
“I can’t go with you, Ed,” Paul said flatly.
Ed’s face twisted, confused. “What? What do you mean you can’t?”
“I’m a sage, Ed. I swore an oath. No different from the promise Garrett made to me back in the cave. He promised if I didn’t make it out, he would find our sister. I love you, bro, but I can’t go with you.”
“So, what? You think I’m going to swear myself to this kid? That maybe we can spit in our hands and shake on it, or even better we can cut our thumbs and squeeze them together! Blood brothers all the way, right?” Ed said, pointing at Garrett and shaking his head. “That’s never going to happen!”
“I would never ask you to do any of that, Ed!” Garrett shouted, which was a mistake because suddenly he became dizzy – dizzy like about-to-fall-off-the-earth dizzy – but he couldn’t stop as all of his soured emotion spilled out. “Just go do your own thing! We don’t need you, Ed! We never asked for you to be the leader, and we never agreed to follow you anywhere! We’ll be better off without you!”
Ed recoiled, his face twisting up. “Roger that!” he said, turning to leave.
The world spun faster. There were more voices, but Garrett could no longer make them out. Maybe Paul, he thought, and Lenny too, but they were all fading to distant murmurs. Garrett’s vision narrowed to a single tunnel. They were all looking at something else now. He tried to turn, to see with his spyglass vision as he spun in a slow circle. The slowly closing tunnel took in trees as they crowded into the parking lot, pushing up pavement with the now-familiar sound of popping concrete. He blinked, trying desperately to focus as a woman took shape. Governess walked along the edge of the parking lot, a sword in each hand, their tips dragging the paved lot. Garrett blinked as if blinking could bring focus. One sword was her own; the other had a familiar dark ivory hilt and a slightly curved blade.
Staggering forward, Garrett wheezed up something coppery. He touched his mouth and pulled away crimson-coated fingers.
He realized the others were yelling at Ed. But Ed wasn’t looking at them. His arms were extended, pointing forward toward the shore – toward Governess. Garrett frowned as small bursts of fire erupted from the object in Ed’s hands, silhouetting the large man in blinding flashes.
The gunshots were quiet, muffled by the shadows of unconsciousness enveloping Garrett in a thick blanket. He was trying desperately to fight the darkness taking him, to throw back the blanket, but he was tangled uselessly in it. He wanted to yell too, to tell Ed to run away, to say he was sorry for yelling at him in first place.
Governess lunged forward with unnatural speed, thrusting with Garrett’s sword.
Garrett reached out with his hand. “Ed!” he croaked.
Ed froze in place as the sword plunged through him.
Governess looked past Ed, meeting Garrett’s eyes with a smile. Then she ripped the wet sword from Ed’s midsection.
Ed crumpled to ground.
More gunshots sounded from beside him, followed by a guttural scream that could only come from a brother’s loss. But all of it might as well been a thousand miles away. The tunnel narrowed to a pinhole, and Garrett felt himself falling.
Part II
ARMIES OF THE WORLD
24
We Are Nephilbock
Thursday, April 21 – God Stones Day 15
Agartha, the Center of the Earth
From high atop the Pyramid of the Seven Gods, King Helreginn sat on a throne carved from the skull of a kraki. He peered out over the Shard Mountains, studying the red sun, deep in thought. The time was finally at hand. Oh, how long he had waited – so, so long. With each passing day a fear had grown stronger, a fear that he might grow old and die before the gods called him home. Mostly he feared he wouldn’t be alive to see how proud he had made the gods. But he had not died, and he was full of joy. An excitement swelled in him he hadn’t felt since the time of the descent. He traced his sixth finger along the orbital bone of his kraki throne. He would miss this place, but he was ready – his army was ready. The king ran his other hand along the opposite eye socket, and he thought back so many millennia ago, to the last day of the descent, the day he led his people here and first laid eyes on the red sun. He remembered it like yesterday, how he had guided them down the shoreline of the blood sea to this place, to their new home, to Agartha.
He rubbed the smooth bone of his ancient throne. The skull was small for a kraki, but it was the perfect throne – the perfect fit. And it was special, a token from the first hunt he had led his warriors on the very day they arrived. The kraki, a smaller one, perhaps an adolescent, had yanked three of his men right off the shores of the Black Sands and into the Blood Sea. Helreginn hadn’t hesitated for one second as he let out a bellow and jumped in headfirst to face the kraki, his men following behind him. In the end, he and his men had slain the beast, and his people feasted for weeks.
They were so few then. Four hundred twenty-one, and he knew each by name. That was so long ago, and the numbers had grown so fast. Even now he felt shame he couldn’t know them all, but alas there were too many.
King Helreginn sighed and turned his face from the red sun and away from the majestic blues and royal reds of the Shard Mountains. He cast his eyes now over his people. He stood from his throne and smiled. Twenty-five thousand filled the shore of the Black Sands, all the way from the maize fields to the Sunken Forest, all of them kneeling before him.
“Rise, my nephilbock! Rise and smile. Raise your weapons high! My father has returned! Our gods await us! I promised you this day would come! I promised you the gods would call upon us for the great battle above and lead us home! The signal has been sent! The Sentheye has been released! Now stomp your feet! Let them know we hear their call, and we! Will! Answer!” King Helreginn shouted, beating his chest with each word. “We are nephilbock, and we shall ascend!”
Twenty-five thousand nephilbock stomped their feet and beat their own chests in return, shouting back, “Ascend we shall!” Surely the Shard Mountains threatened to collapse under such a violent force of foot. Surely, the mother of all kraki, Hafgufa, whose child King Helreginn had slaughtered, would not dare breach these shores, not today. Surely the world above felt the earthquake underfoot. And surely the gods knew their nephilbock were answering the call!
“Step forward, my council! Stand before the throne of your king!” King Helreginn commanded.
Three elder nephilbock approached the throne and bowed.
One ancient elder holding a long olive w
ood staff, thick and twisted, spoke. “How may we serve you, my king?”
“You can die, Yurazu. That will be your final service to this throne.”
The eyes of the other elders widened in fear.
“What?! But my king, I have served you from the beginning! I made the long walk with you. What is the meaning of this?” Yurazu begged.
“You and your council have failed me. When the God Stones’ power was released into the earth, I felt the energy. The sun changed shade and the magnetic poles began to shift, yet still you advised we wait for the signal torches to be lit from above. You didn’t trust in your king, Yurazu, and because I listened to you and your ill-advised counsel, we have lost a dozen revolutions sitting here, waiting for confirmation of what I already knew.” King Helreginn sat back on his throne. “We kept our gods waiting because of your false wisdom!”
“King! I only advised we follow the order of the gods!” Yurazu pleaded.
“If we had arrived early, how pleased would the gods have been, Yurazu? How would they have smiled upon us then?”
“But King Hel—”
“Silence!” the king shouted, his voice echoing down all seven platforms of the pyramid to reach the masses below. “March them to the offering stone and bind them!”
The other two nephilbock tried to flee, but a dozen warriors rushed forward, spears and swords pointed.
“This will be our final offering to Hafgufa, Goddess of the Blood Sea,” the king said.
“I beg you, King Hel—”
“You beg? You are pathetic! Hold your head high, Yurazu, and meet your death like an Agarthian. Make your last moment mean something!”
Yurazu lifted his head. Both his narrowly spaced eyes were dangerously wet, and his jowls twitched in an effort to stay composed.
King Helreginn knew the elder would not dare shed a tear. “Take them!” he spat.
He watched as the three elders stumbled away, led down the stone stairs from the seventh and highest platform, past each descending platform, and onto a shore of black sand. The thousands parted silently, all eyes locked on the three nephilbock as the warriors of the High Guard escorted them out onto the offering stone, forcing them to kneel.
The commander of the High Guard, King Helreginn’s own son, stepped forward and bellowed through the silence, loud enough for all to hear. “By the order of King Helreginn, the first son of God Ogliosh, you are hereby sentenced to the offering stone! May you meet death well and may the gods welcome you home!”
“Please, Gato! I was there when your mother birthed you! Please!” Yurazu begged.
Even from his place on high, the dead silence allowed the elder’s pathetic pleas to reach King Helreginn’s ears. The mighty king spat in disgust.
“Be silent, Yurazu,” Gato whispered fiercely. “You disgrace yourself.” He reached to his side and drew a long knife fashioned from the spine of a giant stingray.
“Your elders whimper like humans! Do not take the blood from their palms, Gato! Take it from their tongues!” King Helreginn’s voice echoed down the pyramid.
Gato bowed. “Yes, my king!” Gato turned to the elders and sneered. “Hold out your tongue lest I pull it from your head!”
Moments later, blood spilled from the three nephilbock. Gato captured as much as he could in the ceremonial stone bowls and, as the ritual required, he spilled the blood into the water, careful to disperse it evenly all around the offering stone. Then quickly he commanded his men to withdraw back to the beach.
The next words King Helreginn shouted were “Haf! Gu! Fa!”
Twenty-five thousand stentorian voices answered, “Haf! Gu! Fa!” and the chant began.
“Haf! Gu! Fa!”
“Haf! Gu! Fa!”
“Haf! Gu! Fa!”
“Haf! Gu! Fa!”
From far out in the Blood Sea, a wake rose and began moving inland like a tsunami, moving toward the Black Sands – toward the offering stone. As the wake neared the shore, it vanished. The water went still once again.
The chant broke as a loaded silence fell over the masses. The only sound came from the offering stone as the injured nephilbock squirmed against their bindings.
Several meters offshore, bubbles erupted. Those closest to the water’s edge shuffled back, fear driving them into those behind them.
King Helreginn leaned forward from his throne.
Tentacles thick as tree trunks and black as Agartha’s starless nights plunged from the froth. Giant suckers lined the bottom of the tentacles, accompanied by long recurved hooks. A massive head coated in slime thick as tar breached the surface, along with two eyes the size of nephilbock heads. The strangely rectangular pupils were a bottomless black as they searched over the crowd, then up the seven levels of the pyramid to lock on to King Helreginn. The kraki goddess unleashed a bellow that was a combination of pain and rage. It was a shriek that echoed across the Blood Sea, only to be carried away and lost somewhere in the Shard Mountains.
The king stood and raised his chin. He felt all of her hate. And he knew she knew him. She knew him and what he had done. Never had she stared at him so knowingly before. After a moment, Hafgufa whipped her tentacles forward, lashing out across the offering stone. Her hooks punctured deep into the flesh of the bound nephilbock before ripping them from the offering stone and lifting them into the air above her. From high above, Hafgufa released the nephilbock from her clutches, dropping them into her massive mouth as one might toss back a few ulk berries. Somehow, even with severed tongues, the wise old nephilbock found their voices, loosing horrifying screams.
Hafgufa never let her eyes stray from the king.
When the three elder nephilbock were no more, the kraki’s tentacles receded, but those eyes stayed above the water for a long moment that seemed to stretch out. Then, finally, she sank slowly back into the Blood Sea.
The king shifted his gaze to his people. “Now, my nephilbock. Now we begin the long walk to meet our gods!” The king marched down the stone stairs accompanied by his High Guard as the masses fell in behind their king.
King Helreginn never looked back.
25
It’s Just a Ride
Thursday, April 21 – God Stones Day 15
Somewhere over the Yucatan
Jack woke to wind in his face and talons wrapped too tight around his chest. He squinted up past the flapping wings and into a sun far too high to be early morning. His head pounded like he’d been drunk the night before, only his chest ached too, like he’d been kicked hard in the solar plexus. Slipping his thick tongue between dry lips, he pressed his eyes shut, hiding them from the sting of the unwelcome sunlight. Images of Pete flashed through his mind, only Pete’s face was screwed up with rage and his eyes were electric. What had happened? Memories came in a rush to clear his confusion.
“Goch!” Jack croaked. “Put me down!”
The dragon answered with action, diving straight down toward the earth. Pressure built behind Jack’s ears, making his already aching head feel as though it might burst. Relief came when his ears popped and a moment later, their descent slowed. Jack looked down to find nothing but mountainous jungle as far as the eye could see. As the dragon glided a few feet above the ground, he let go of Jack, dropping him hard.
Jack went into a roll across the forest floor, feeling all his aches light up like a scoreboard. He pushed himself up, stretched his back, and brushed himself off. “Where are we?”
The dragon folded his wings and twisted his neck to appraise him. “Halfway to where we are going.”
“Well, where are we going?” Jack asked.
“To see my queen and your dökkálfar,” he said evenly.
“Dakkle what?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. “Where are Garrett and the others?”
“Gone,” Goch said.
“Gone? What do you mean gone!” Jack demanded, his dry upper lip splitting at the outburst.
“Turek is blood marked!”
“I don’t give a shit what
kind of marked he is! Take me back! We need to find him and the others! Isn’t that why you were sent?”
“We must tell my queen what we have seen.”
Jack licked his lip, tasting blood. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m going back to finish this! They’re getting away!”
“We have traveled far while you slept. It would take you weeks to get back there on foot.”
Jack looked around, really taking it in. It was humid, and the jungle didn’t look, or sound, like anything he had ever seen. Were those monkeys he was hearing? “How dare you take me away?” He pointed up at the giant dragon. “You may be a coward, but I ain’t! I was killing them! Goddammit, Goch! I had them on their knees! I could have finished them myself!”
The dragon roared. His long neck extended down until his horned snout poked Jack in his already sore chest. He stumbled back onto his ass as the dragon’s snout followed him down, pressing him into the ground. “You were facedown in the river when I pulled you out! I could have left you to die!”
Jack thought of a virus so foul it would make a human shit his pants, of fever to make blood boil, and body aches so horrible they would immobilize a person into a statue, unable to move. He thought of these things of horror, and he bore his focus hatefully into the dragon. How dare Goch take him away from Garrett, how dare he sour his revenge?
The dragon listed sideways but stayed upright. The horned snout withdrew from Jack’s chest as Goch opened his mouth and began to roar, saliva dripping from the beast’s mouth to puddle on Jack’s chest.
Jack stared into the dragon’s throat, ready to release his full disease. But he hesitated. For some reason he couldn’t figure out, he didn’t let it all loose. Fire ignited deep in the back of Goch’s throat. Heat and stink washed over his face, but like Jack holding back the disease, the dragon held the fire back. Why? Why not end it? Goch could have left him to die in the river. So why didn’t he? The dragon could kill him right now… so why didn’t he? Jack pulled back all the disease. “Wait!”
