Destroyer of Legends

by Clayton Wood

  They both got to their feet, facing the humongous monster. Hunter lifted his sword…and realized he didn’t have it. It was still embedded in the creature’s palate.

  The snake drew back from them, arching way up, its cold, alien eyes locking on Xerxes. Then it lunged right at the Ironclad, swallowing Xerxes whole.

  Hunter swore, backpedaling rapidly. The snake’s head lifted off the ground, its mouth partially open. Hunter spotted his brother inside, one of the snake’s giant fangs having impaled Xerxes straight through the belly, the razor-sharp tip emerging from Xerxes’ back.

  Xerxes gripped the fang with one pair of hands, pulling himself up it, impaling himself even more. Then he reached out with his second pair of hands, grabbing Hunter’s sword from the roof of the creature’s mouth and flinging it down on the ground near Hunter. Hunter picked it up, glancing at the snake, then at his sword.

  “Yeah, no,” he grumbled. He might as well attack the snake with a toothpick. The snake’s mouth snapped shut, and it turned to face him.

  Shit!

  Hunter backpedaled, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to be able to outrun this thing. And there was no way in hell he was going to kill it.

  But he knew someone who could.

  He turned his focus inward, concentrating on his hunger. On the pain in his left wing where the snake had struck him. Pictured a dark, musty tomb, a huge black statue emerging from the base of a black skull.

  Za-ga-mar!

  Thousands of voices chanting his name. Soldiers standing in the ruins of city after city, exalting their leader. A god among men.

  Za-ga-mar!

  Hunter grimaced, feeling that other within him growing, flowing out of the dark cervices of his mind. Forming a churning, powerful current that threatened to overtake him.

  Za-ga-MAR!

  He stepped outside of that current, watching as it passed by. Then he dipped his psychic toes within its waters, far enough removed to be safe from the Legend’s overwhelming power, but connected enough to be able to control the man.

  Or so he hoped.

  Time slowed, and at the same time his heart began to beat faster, his pulse pounding in his ears. He studied the giant snake slithering toward him, its massive body undulating slowly.

  Product of the Deep, he knew instantly. Snake, giant, insects, trees combined. In pain. Lashing out.

  His eyes scoured his surroundings, locking on the pack laying on the ground a few dozen feet ahead and to his left. At the bow and quiver lashed to it. He felt Zagamar sigh within him, shaking his head at Hunter’s stupidity.

  The snake reared its head back slowly, its mouth starting to open. Preparing to strike.

  Hunter waited.

  Then it lunged forward in slow-motion, its eyes closing, its mouth opening wide as it attacked!

  Hunter leapt to the left, jumping and tucking his knees to his chest as the beast struck the ground to his right, then straightened his legs, kicking off the side of the snake’s jaw…and flinging his sword right into the beast’s eye. It struck true, the blade burying itself into that monstrous globe, clear fluid gushing out of it.

  The beast jerked its head back with a shriek.

  Hunter used the momentum from having kicked off the beast to launch himself toward the pack in the distance, landing on the rocky terrain and sprinting toward it. He skid to a stop before it, grabbing the bow and one arrow, then turning to face the beast.

  It swung its head to track him with its remaining eye, lunging at him.

  Hunter nocked an arrow and let it fly in one smooth motion, then tossed the bow aside while the arrow was still sailing through the air.

  It struck the creature in its remaining eye, plunging into the orb.

  The snake slid to a stop, swinging its head from side-to-side madly. It rolled onto its back, thrashing wildly, its wings breaking under its weight. Blood poured from the wounds, soaking the stones below.

  And then there was a loud crack.

  The snake’s entire body shuddered, then went still.

  A moment later, the creature’s mouth opened slightly, and none other than Xerxes stepped out of it. The big guy was entirely covered in blood, the snake’s broken-off fang still impaling him. Xerxes grinned at Hunter, grabbing the fang with a few hands and yanking it straight out of him. The hole through his belly began to close immediately.

  “GOOD…FIGHT,” Xerxes decided, walking up to Hunter and putting a huge hand on his shoulder. “YOU…HURT?”

  Hunter shoved Zagamar out of his consciousness, and to his relief the Legend returned into the dark crevices of his mind, silent and powerless once more. But it took a little more effort than it had the last time he’d conjured the guy…the importance of which was not lost on Hunter.

  Zaggie was growing stronger within him.

  “Not bad,” Hunter answered, feeling his heart slow, his metabolism going back to normal. He felt even more famished now than he had earlier. “Just my wing,” he added. His left wing still smarted from the snake hitting it.

  “IT HEAL,” Xerxes reassured.

  “Let’s get going,” Hunter muttered, walking up to his pack and tying the bow and quiver to it, then handing it to Xerxes. “Before Zagamar steals any more of my soul.”

  And with that, they left the giant snake’s body behind, continuing their trek through the swirling fog toward the Deep.

  * * *

  The Deep was just as Hunter remembered. Or rather, just as it’d been in the memories he’d gained from his mother.

  He and Xerxes stood at the edge of a narrow, rocky ledge with thick moss growing on it. A mere yard ahead, the ledge ended abruptly, leading to a straight drop down into a truly massive pit in the earth. It was like looking down into the crater of a volcano…if that crater were several miles wide and so deep that it seemed to travel to the center of the earth itself. To Hunter, already not one for heights, it inspired equal parts awe and fear.

  “Whelp,” Hunter stated, turning to Xerxes, “…this is it.”

  Xerxes grunted in agreement, then glanced down at Hunter.

  “TAKE…OFF,” he ordered, gesturing at…well, at all of Hunter.

  “Huh?”

  “CLOTHES.”

  “You want me to take off my clothes?” Hunter asked, raising an eyebrow. Xerxes nodded. “Seriously?”

  “REMEMBER…MOM.”

  “Touché,” Hunter conceded. Mom had gone down into the Deep with an ironclad beetle stuck under her shirt, and had paid for it dearly. The Deep would fuse any wills around Hunter to him, meaning that the fewer wills he had around him, the better. “Turn around,” he ordered.

  “WHY?”

  “‘Cause I don’t want you laughing at my dick,” Hunter replied. Xerxes chuckled.

  “NO…LAUGH,” he replied. “FEEL…SORRY.”

  “Ha ha,” Hunter grumbled. “Asshole.”

  But Xerxes did as he was told, and Hunter stripped off his clothes until he was entirely naked. Then Xerxes promptly turned back around.

  “Bro, what the hell?” Hunter blurted out, covering his groin hastily. Which took both hands.

  “GOOD…SIZE,” Xerxes reassured, patting him on the shoulder. “PROP…PORTIONAL.”

  “Gee thanks,” Hunter muttered. But there was no way around it; he had to climb down, so he might as well get comfortable being butt-naked in front of his brother. He glanced down the pit again; there were relatively flat, rocky ledges protruding from the wall of the pit directly below, some of them quite small, others large enough to fit a few dozen people on. The nearest ledge was about twenty feet down, and the next-closest was to the right of the first, at least sixty feet down. This supported a small pond that glowed a faint blue, as well as the roots of a large vine crawling up the side wall…all the way up to the ledge they were standing on now, to their right. A single blue, glowing stripe wound around this vine, glowing faintly in the waning sunlight.

  “Mom took that vine down,” Hunter noted, eyeing the vine. �
�She went into that pool.”

  “NO…GO.”

  “Not into the pool, I know,” Hunter agreed. “And I should avoid the glowing moss surrounding it too,” he added. There was a good foot or two of blue glowing moss on the ledge surrounding the pool. It contained the same micro-organism that had turned Mom – and Xerxes – into regenerating immortals. A little bit of healing was great, but growing a big blue mane and a tail was a little much. “I can just go down to that ledge above the pool,” he reasoned. “That should be enough.”

  “HOW…KNOW?”

  “I don’t know,” Hunter admitted. It was an excellent point. How would they know when they’d been exposed enough to the Deep? “Guess I gotta just go and hope it’s enough.”

  Xerxes paused, then nodded in grudging agreement. There was no other way.

  “Get on my back,” Xerxes signed. “I’ll climb down.”

  “Hold on,” Hunter countered. “Give me a minute.”

  Xerxes did so, and Hunter stared down the pit. This was it…he was at the Deep. Once he went down there, there was no telling what might happen. He could fuse with Zagamar’s will, compartmentalizing the Legend forever like they’d planned. But what if Zagamar’s more powerful will took over? Would he still remain himself? Or would he be like Zagamar was now, trapped in his own body, unable to control himself?

  It was entirely possible that, by going down there, Hunter was essentially committing suicide.

  Of course, the only other option was to leave this place and let Zagamar take over slowly, destroying Hunter’s mind piece by piece until there was nothing left at all.

  Hunter grit his teeth, taking a deep breath in, then nodding at Xerxes.

  “Okay.”

  The big guy knelt down, and Hunter climbed onto his back, wrapping his arms around the guy’s armored neck. Xerxes went up to the vine, grabbing ahold of it and swinging his legs over the abyss. Hunter glanced down…and immediately regretted it.

  “Ohhh shit,” he muttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in. “Be careful buddy, I can’t fly yet.”

  Xerxes was careful, and with his four arms he had no trouble at all climbing down the vine. They were about a third of the way down went Hunter swore.

  “Stop!” he shouted. Xerxes did so. “Go back up,” he ordered. “If we go down together, we might get…combined.”

  Xerxes nodded, climbing back up and depositing Hunter atop the ledge next to the vine.

  “I have to go alone,” Hunter realized. He squared his shoulders. “All right. Wish me lucky big guy.”

  Xerxes leaned down, grabbing Hunter with all four arms and giving him a big hug. And picking him right off the ground in the process. Then, mercifully, he set Hunter down.

  “Love you too little brother,” Hunter said.

  He took a deep breath in then, making a point not to look into the abyss he was about to hang over. He climbed onto the vine, remembering everything he’d learned about rock-climbing from his mom and dad. Avid spelunkers, they’d brought Hunter along during their expeditions ever since he’d been old enough to climb.

  Here goes, he thought.

  He shimmied his way down the vine until he was hanging over the pit, focusing on the next handhold and foothold to the exclusion of everything else. And focusing on taking his time. His life quite literally depended on it.

  It wasn’t long before his foot touched down on the rocky ledge below, and he let go of the vine, finding himself on a small rocky ledge twenty feet above the glowing blue pool. The ledge sloped downward to his left, leading to the rocky shore surrounding the pool. He had another powerful sense of deja-vu; it was almost exactly as his mother had remembered it.

  “Okay,” he told himself, taking a step forward. “Now I just have to…”

  And then there was pain.

  Agony tore through his chest all the way to his back, as if his flesh was being ripped open. He screamed, doubling over, then falling onto his side on the rocky ledge. He gasped, curling up into the fetal position.

  The pain was unbearable.

  The tearing sensation turned into a burning feeling, as if his chest and back were on fire. He shrieked, the awful sound echoing through the massive pit.

  Hunter’s vision blackened, the world starting to spin.

  He clutched onto the ledge, digging his fingertips into the rock, holding on for dear life. Faster and faster the world spun, until he puked.

  His pain grew. Beyond anything he had ever experienced. Beyond any memory of the terrible deaths he’d absorbed. Beyond imagination.

  At that moment, if he could have, he would have ended it. Would’ve leapt into the gaping pit below.

  And then, as quickly as it had come, the pain stopped.

  Chapter 11

  Sunlight splashed across the small bedroom, setting the messy sheets on the narrow bed in the corner aglow. Zac yawned, keeping his eyes closed against the bright light. He let himself wake up slowly; a luxury he could only afford right after the harvest each year. Luckily his family had finished harvesting in record time, thanks to the machines he’d invented. His inventions were an antidote to the mind-numbing work in the fields, and never ceased to amaze his parents and neighbors.

  He basked in this leisurely morning, stretching his arms up and out.

  It felt glorious.

  Zac felt a familiar weight on his belly, his cat Zooey in her usual spot. She was always on him or near him, his constant companion. He felt the vibrations of her purring, and put a hand on her back to stroke it. But instead of her long fur, he felt soft, warm skin under his fingertips.

  He jerked his hand away, his eyes snapping open.

  There, curled up on his belly, was Zooey, fast asleep. But something was terribly wrong with her. Her fur had fallen out in large clumps, her skin below the same olive color as his. And her ears were rounded, her face weirdly flat.

  And the fingers on each paw where too long. In fact, they looked like…

  “Zooey?” he blurted out.

  She opened her eyes, revealing perfectly round pupils.

  Zac cried out, scrambling to the head of the bed. Zooey startled, leaping off his bed.

  “Honey?” a muted voice called out from behind his door.

  “Mom!” Zac yelled.

  The door burst open, and his mother ran into the bedroom, looking frantic. And Zooey slipped right between her legs, bolting down the hallway beyond.

  “Zac? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s Zooey,” Zac answered. “Something’s wrong with her.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s really bad,” he told her. They both stepped out of the room, looking down the hallway. His parents’ bedroom door was cracked open…and Zooey was nowhere to be seen.

  Suddenly, there was a shout from behind that door, followed by a crash, and Zooey shrieking. Zooey burst out of the door, bolting past Zac and Mom into Zac’s room.

  Dad stepped into the hallway, his eyes wide.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

  “It’s that damn cat!” Dad nearly shouted. He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “It’s a god-damn freak!”

  “Honey, I…”

  “It’s changed,” Dad interrupted, giving her a significant look. They both paused, then stared at Zac. Zac frowned.

  “What?” he asked.

  Dad took a few steps back, pulling Mom with him. Zac took a step toward them.

  “Stay back,” Dad ordered.

  “What are…”

  “I said stay back!” Dad shouted.

  “Honey…” Mom began, giving Dad a pleading look. “He’s only twelve.”

  “Don’t ‘Honey’ me,” Dad snapped. “And you know that’s when this happens!”

  “Maybe it isn’t what you think,” Mom pressed. Dad glared at her.

  “Did you see that thing?” he retorted. Then he pointed at Zac. “It’s turning into him!”

  “But Zooey was normal last night,” sh
e protested.

  “That’s the damn point,” Dad shot back. He swallowed visibly, his jawline rippling. “You need to leave, Zac. Grab your things and go.”

  “But Dad…” Zac stammered.

  “No buts,” Dad interjected. “Get your shit and get out.”

  “But why Dad?” Zac pressed. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “I know,” Dad conceded. “But you can’t live here anymore. You can’t…” He swallowed again. “You can’t see us anymore.”

  Zac just stared at him, feeling numb. He turned to Mom, giving her a pleading look.

  “Oh Zac,” Mom moaned, tears running down her cheeks. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Zac muttered. “What did I do?”

  “It’s not what you did, son,” Dad replied. “It’s…what you are. Now get your things and go. Don’t make me ask you again.”

  Zac hesitated, then turned away from them, stepping back into his room. Zooey was there, laying on his bed, staring back at him with those freakish eyes.

  They looked…human.

  He put on his clothes, then grabbed more clothes, stuffing them in the pack he kept in the corner of his room. His mind raced, ticking off the things he’d need. He filled the pack with his spare coins, some snacks, and a blanket, then stepped out of his bedroom. Mom and Dad weren’t there; he continued down the hallway, hearing a thump as Zooey jumped off the bed, trotting behind him. They went into the living room, and Zac spotted Mom and Dad in the kitchen.

  Dad had a butcher knife in his hand.

  Zac froze.

  “We love you, son,” Dad stated, holding the knife in front of him. “But you can’t come back. Ever.”

  Zac stared at the knife, then at him.

  “If I ever see you again,” Dad added, his eyes moist, “…I’ll kill you.”

  Zac’s lower lip trembled, his vision blurring. He turned away from them, going to the front door and opening it. He glanced back at Mom one last time, then stepped through the doorway.

  Mom began to wail.

  Zac took a deep breath in, feeling something brush against his legs. It was Zooey.

  “Come on Zooey,” he said, his voice cracking. He reached down to pick her up, clutching her to his chest. And began to walk.