Another scream. She caught sight of an innocent man dragging himself away, Calista’s arrow embedded in his lower back.
Before any more innocents could die by her hand, Calista threw down the bow in surrender. She waited for the assassin to reach her, even lifted her chin to make slashing her throat an easier task.
The hooded man leaped onto the stage. His blood-soaked dagger wasn’t covered in blood at all, she realized—the blade was naturally red. There were two black triangles tattooed above his eyes, like wolf’s ear growing from his eyebrows. She knew the mark well, having seen it many times since childhood.
The assassins were members of the Wolf Pack.
“You stay still now,” the man said with a vicious scowl.
His gray tail swung in anticipation as he crept toward her. Calista almost gave in to a powerful urge to run, but she held fast. Tears ran down her face as she pictured joining Lance, the two of them embracing in the dark realm of death. Then something much larger and slower than an arrow flashed through the air toward her, flipping and spinning, thrown from below.
“Grab it,” Artemis shouted up at the stage.
Instinct finally edged into her consciousness. Adrenaline surged. Calista caught the sword and fell twisting to the floor, narrowly missing the assassin’s red blade as it stabbed the space she had just vacated. Swinging her blade in response, Calista cut open his belly.
The man staggered for a moment, then fell to his knees. The dagger dropped with a clatter to the stage. Both of his hands went immediately to the wound in a futile attempt to keep his insides from spilling out.
“Why me?” Calista said, leveling the blade with his throat.
The man spit out blood. He snarled a single word at her before he died.
“Payback.”
CHAPTER 37
T error spiked in Oscar’s belly. They had been following the trail of speckled blood through the tunnel when, suddenly, a rhythmic pounding arose from the other end—a steady beat like fists banging against battle drums.
“I don’t know the rest of the way,” Jason said, turning to face the group.
Larry waved him aside. “I’ll take over from here.” He picked out two men. “Sal, Francos, you two guard the rear. I want the boy and his father in the middle at all times.”
He directed his next words at Oscar. “You’re faster than any of us. If we get attacked, I want you to run back to the surface and tell everyone what’s down here. You’ll be saving lives, got that?”
Oscar nodded. Then something hooked his nose, a scent he hadn’t noticed before. He sniffed the air while the others took notice and watched. It was a distinctly fresh smell that stood apart from the dank stench of the fungi growing on the walls.
“Water,” he said.
Larry frowned at him. “We didn’t bring much, but if you need, you can have my—”
“No.” Oscar tipped his head back and drew a deep breath. “I can smell it. Lots of it.”
Larry searched the cramped space. “I smell it now, too. It could be their water source. If we follow our noses, we might find a safer way in.”
They entered a much broader tunnel with a ceiling about twenty feet above their heads. The smell was stronger here. From the looks of it, they had entered a part of the cave system used by creatures much larger than normal humans. Oscar saw scuffmarks on the stone floor that indicated foot traffic—and very large feet at that.
The tunnel split in half at the other end. One could go either left or right, though both directions led deeper into the depths. Oscar knew which one to take before Larry could confirm his hunch.
“The drumbeat is coming from there,” he said, pointing into the right tunnel. “The smell of water is stronger this way.” He pointed into the left. “This is where we decide.”
“I say water,” Muldoon said. “Maybe we could piss in it first.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Dagon.
“We’re all decided,” Larry said. “Water it is.”
They made their way down, the smell growing stronger, along with the earthier scent of moss. Oscar occupied his mind with strategies of how they could use a water source to their advantage. Maybe it would allow them some sort of leverage over the creatures that lived down here?
“I could use some water right about now,” Muldoon said at one point. “Help with this hangover.”
“Quit complaining,” Dagon snapped at him. “This metal leg feels like I’m walking on the tip of a sword.”
Dagon reached out to touch the wall, probably to steady himself so he could rub the leg in question. Instead, he dropped his torch and gasped.
“What in the hell?”
His hand had landed on a thick patch of moss the same deep brown as the wall around it. Despite its camouflage, Oscar knew by its texture and the distinctly organic way in which it swirled around Dagon’s hand—like it wanted to pull him in and swallow him—that the thing was alive and hungry.
His view expanded as if by instinct, and he became preternaturally aware of more movement in the low light. The contracting movement of the moss was slowly tightening a length of rope against the wall.
Oscar barely had time to shout, “Get down!”
He grabbed his father around the waist and pulled him to the ground a second before a metallic snap sounded above them. The other veterans dropped in the blink of an eye—all except Dagon, whose arm had been swallowed up to the elbow by the moss. He screamed and flailed his metal leg.
He didn’t have a chance. With a sound like the entire tunnel caving in, a boulder swung down from the high ceiling and slammed Dagon against the surface. It bounced along the wall with the intent of crushing anyone else who might have gotten snagged by the moss.
Attached to the ceiling by rope, it swung several times above their heads before coming to stop. Oscar jumped to his feet and went to help Dagon. The moss had hardened around his arm like concrete, and Dagon hung from it in a broken mess.
“To—to the next world,” Dagon managed to say, choking on his own blood.
“No,” Muldoon cried. He tried to wrench Dagon’s hand away from the moss, which threatened to capture him as well. Larry had to pull him away.
Oscar and the others watched solemnly as Larry gripped the dying man’s hand.
“Farewell, my friend. To the next world.”
Dagon coughed out a final spurt of blood and gazed peacefully at Larry’s face.
“Soon, old friend.”
“Soon,” Larry said.
Oscar tried to say goodbye, but a sickening force tightened around his stomach. The smell of the man’s blood was so overpowering he could taste it on the back of his tongue. He stumbled away, clutching his belly, and vomited.
“Let it out,” his father told him.
Oscar finished and wiped his mouth.
Andres spoke in English to the rest of the group.
“We go back now, all of us. Probably your friends are dead. No reason for more to die.”
“He’s right on all counts,” Larry said. “Oscar, you and your father get out of here. No arguments.”
“What about you?” Oscar said.
Larry picked up Dagon’s torch, holding two now. The shivering flames made his scars stand out like plastic. The unscarred half of his face was set in a look of grim resolve.
“I’m going to save Bil and Sara or die trying.” He looked down at Dagon’s crushed, limp body. “I won’t force anyone to go with me.”
The other veterans didn’t hesitate.
“I’m with you, Larry,” Muldoon said and grabbed one of Larry’s torches. “Death to the bastards who set this trap, Orglot or not.”
Jason clutched his own head and shook it frantically. “I’m to blame for all of this. If it weren’t for me, none of us would be up here. Dagon would still be alive.” He dropped his hands, then suddenly unsheathed his sword. “Count me in.”
Andres put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder to keep him back. Part of him wanted to
keep going; a larger part wanted to return to the surface and never look back. Finally, he allowed his father to lead him out of the tunnel.
“Oscar,” Larry said.
Oscar turned back. His father cleared his throat, obviously impatient.
Larry wore a look of respect. “Theus Academy is missing out on one hell of a future leader.”
Oscar warmed at the compliment. “Light guide your step,” was all he could think to say. He steepled his fingers against his forehead in a solemn salute.
“And yours,” Larry said, returning the gesture.
CHAPTER 38
T he way back seemed much longer this time around.
Oscar thought about Calista as he accompanied his father up the tunnel. What was she doing at this very moment? Did she ever think about him? If he and his father went to Valestaryn, would Calista help them find a home there? In some of his more wistful musings, he wondered if Calista could ever love someone like him—not just as a friend but something more.
He was so lost in thought that he accidentally burned his father’s arm with the torch.
“Ai.” his father said, lurching away. “Careful.”
“Sorry.”
“Here. Give me that.” His father took the torch and raised it above his head, searching the walls for traps. “Stay behind me.”
They arrived at the area where Bil and Sara had been snagged by the metal clamps. The reek of blood made Oscar swallow another urge to vomit.
“I hope they make it out okay,” he said, thinking of Larry and his friends, and Bil and Sara, and anyone else who might have been taken prisoner back there.
His father stopped and gave Oscar a stern look.
“They chose their paths in coming here. And now we’re choosing ours, to go back and live our lives.”
Oscar tipped his head back proudly. “With honor. Like those men.”
His father frowned and continued up the tunnel. “Those men have death wishes.”
“I know. Papa?”
“Yes, Oscar?”
“From now on, I’ll do what you say. I’ll study at a normal school, get a job, and—and maybe help you start a taxi service someday, like you said before.”
His father smiled warmly at him. “As long as we’re together and you’re healthy, I can’t ask for anything more. Now let’s get out of here. We’ll have to use your machine to call for help. There’s no climbing down that ledge outside the entrance.”
They made their way through another series of tunnels and into a cavern where the floor was solid black. That’s because it wasn’t a floor at all.
“Wait.” Oscar grabbed his father’s shirt and held him back. “It’s that pit from before.”
His father whistled. “I must have let the fire blind me. Come on, let’s use the ledge.”
A thought struck Oscar. How had his father gotten through these tunnels in the first place with no torch? A newfound respect soared in him, similar to the admiration he had felt as a child the day his father brought home his first taxi cab. No matter what life threw at the man, Andres Reza survived. That was his special ability, his gift from God, or the gods, or whatever grand beings had sculpted them in the first place.
Basking in a sudden hopeful feeling, one mixed with a deep affection for his father, Oscar’s wits slowed to those of a person steeped in the haze of a dopey drug. He couldn’t move fast enough to prevent what happened next, could barely think fast enough to understand until it was too late.
His father stumbled on a loose rock and fell off the ledge into the pit.
“No!”
Oscar reached to grab hold of him and managed to clamp onto one of his father’s hands. Almost immediately, he realized his mistake—he had not thought to cling to safety. As his father’s weight pulled him into the pit, Oscar became aware of three things—the torch being swallowed by the darkness, his father’s eyes popping all the way open in fear, and something cold and slimy tightening around his ankle. And then they were hanging above the pit.
Something had saved their lives. But what?
“Oscar,” his father said frantically, “you have to let go.”
“It’s okay. Something’s holding us.”
A pale, bluish glow washed over them from above. Oscar tightened his grip on his father’s wrist. The thing around his ankle was sticky, strong, and colder than any living human flesh. He threw a glance over his shoulder to see what it was.
A pair of blind eyes stared back at him. It was the four-tentacled creature from before, the one that resembled an octopus. Its bulbous head and one of its limbs hung over the edge, the tip of the tentacle wrapped around Oscar’s leg. The other three must have been stuck to the wall.
Pop, pop, pop.
It was the sound of the animal’s suction cups being ripped off. Oscar and his father fell a few inches lower.
“Let go,” Andres pleaded. “We’re too heavy. You’ll die if you don’t.”
“But you’ll fall,” Oscar said in disbelief.
Pop, pop.
More suction cups came loose. Oscar sensed the urgency coming from the creature’s simple brain, the wordless cry of alarm it emitted as the combined weight of two humans threatened to end its life.
“Try to climb up my arm,” Oscar said.
His grip was slipping. His father looked down into the abyss, then back at Oscar.
“You promised you would obey me,” Andres said. “Now do it. Let go of me. Now.”
“No.”
“Let go of me now.”
“No.”
That last word came out a sob of pure agony. Tears fell from Oscar’s eyes. They landed on his father’s cheeks. Andres didn’t seem to notice.
“Oscar…”
“Please, Papa. You can’t die. You can’t.”
“No matter what happens, Mama and I will always watch over you. We will always love you.”
One of the creature’s limbs tore away from the wall. Oscar could tell by the way they swung suddenly. He cried out in alarm. His father’s wrist had almost slipped out of his grasp. The thought of letting go was unbearable.
“Just climb up, Papa. All you have to do is climb.”
Andres used his free hand to pull the Tiberian dagger out of his belt. He tossed it up onto the ledge. “Get out of here alive. Promise me, Oscar. Don’t die. Not here, not with me.”
Oscar held back sobs, if only so he could speak. “I love you, Papa.”
“I love you, too,” Andres said and blinked away tears of his own. “I didn’t mean what I said before. Your mother was never disappointed in you. She’s proud of you. And so am I.”
Oscar wept. “I know…”
“I’m ready. Let me be with her.”
Oscar let his fingers go limp. His father slipped away, fell toward the darkness, but before it could swallow him up, he touched his forehead, fingers steepled in a final salute. Light guide your step, he was saying, even though light would never touch him again.
Oscar cried so intensely that he was unaware of his own body rising out of the pit, being lifted to safety.
“Papa, I’m sorry,” he wailed into the abyss. “I didn’t mean those things I said. I’m so sorry!”
The creature pulled him up onto the ledge, where Oscar immediately curled into a ball and wept.
“Please don’t… Please…”
The creature draped its tentacles across Oscar’s trembling body. Even through his grief, he sensed a connection being forged, a friendship between him and this creature.
Happy, it was telling him. Alive…
Oscar ignored it. He struggled to stay afloat in a sea of grief, the current of which threatened to pull him down into an abyss more terrible than the one that had killed his father. He cried. Cried and wailed and thrashed his limbs in a mixture of rage and regret.
If he hadn’t come to this cave in the first place…
If he had never set foot in that tavern…
He lost his breath at one point and couldn’t
get it back. Struggling to breathe, Oscar rolled around and kicked and gasped, and then it was only the creature’s soothing weight, its tentacles draping over him, that allowed Oscar to fill his lungs with air once more.
Finally, he sat up and wiped away his tears, the creature gently peeling itself away to accommodate him.
“Thank you,” Oscar said weakly, sniffling.
The light in the creature’s skin pulsed, revealing networks of bluish veins.
Alive, the creature said in its wordless way before wrapping two tentacles around Oscar’s neck. Oscar knew the pulsing light was coming from the creature’s brimming joy at having saved him. It didn’t seem to know or care that Oscar’s father was gone and would never come back.
He pushed it away as if it were a happy puppy licking his face.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
Alive… Alive…
“I have to go back,” he told it. “I have to go back to them.”
He sat cross-legged, letting the creature embrace him. Its glow diminished, a sign that it was unhappy at the news. Finally, he peeled it off and stood up carefully on the ledge.
“I have to go back. They need me.”
It became a mantra, the only thing keeping him standing, keeping him from tipping off the ledge to join his father. He could even picture himself falling with his arms outstretched.
Alive, the creature said again. Alive… Stay…
“No. I can’t.”
The Tiberian dagger lay nearby. Oscar picked it up and studied it against the creature’s phosphorescent flesh. Hateful thoughts coursed through his mind. The blade was perfect for sticking into an Orglot’s eye. He would kill every single one of them, even if it cost him his life.
He was helpless in here without a torch. Struck by an idea, he reached down to pet the creature’s glistening head.
“I know you just saved my life,” he told it, “but I need a favor. Guide me through the tunnels. I have to help my friends.”
Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series Page 71
