Red Rain (The Circle Book 3)

by Lee Isserow

  “Get them out of there!” Faith growled.

  Light poured through the tunnels once again for a blink of an eye as Three evacuated the team, bringing all five of them back into the Epicentre

  “It was ready for us. . .” one of them gasped, holding a mangled hand in another mangled hand.

  “It?” Tali said. “This was just one? I barely saw anything. . .”

  Medics launched into action and began to heal the injured, whilst Tali threw her attention back to the operatives in the field. Teams were about to be teleported into Cairo, Egypt and Sofia, Bulgaria, and she needed her wits about her.

  “Barriers,” Faith ordered.

  Tali nodded. “Guys, I want barriers up as soon as you're on the ground!”

  She watched through their eyes as they were blinded for mere moments. As soon as the teams appeared in the sewers, the barriers had jaws and tentacles slamming against them, the dim light in the tunnels bending across the magickal shields as intense force was put against it.

  This is what Three meant, she realised, they would have to adapt the plan going forward. . . The creatures could somehow sense teleportation, they were ready for them―and so they were going to have to be all the more prepared for them in return.

  Another message came in on her periphery, teams were ready to head out to Banjul, Gambia and Tashkent, Uzbekistan, and Napoli, Italy. She gave them the same instructions she had given the previous two teams, and continued her oversight of their operation.

  “Sabre's casting did the job in New York. . .” Faith advised.

  “Long range guys in Egypt and Bulgaria, you're going to do a trial run on something for me, okay? I want you to have a light-liquid-fire combo on your fingers―that kicked arse in New York, and it's going to blow these bitches away, let me know when you're ready.”

  She checked in on the three new teams. Two of them were doing all they could to reinforce the barrier from the barrage of teeth and tendrils, but one of them wasn't answering.

  “Napoli team? Bloody answer me. . .”

  She pulled out of the scrying view of the scene and surveyed the site where the team landed. The walls were dripping with blood. The creature they had been sent to dispatch was standing in the middle of the five bodies.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “It knew where the landing zone was. . .” Faith muttered.

  “That shouldn't be possible, as much as some things can sense when teleportation is happening nearby, nothing can be that exact about where and when. . .”

  “Well it bloody is. And with the barrier up as soon as they landed, they just bloody trapped themselves in a damn cage with the thing. . .”

  A shiver rocketed across Tali's spine. She had told them to put up barriers―and even though it was on Faith's orders, it felt as though it was all her fault.

  “Cairo long-range ready to go,” whispered a voice in her periphery.

  “Sofia too,” said another.

  She swallowed hard over a lump in her throat and switched her views to look out over the scenes.

  “First two are ready to burn and cut, sir.” The words came out with a quiver.

  “Let's get it done.”

  “Okay guys, wits about you. . . Barriers down in three. . . two. . . one. . .”

  The barriers in Egypt and Bulgaria went down. An arrow of light shot out from each of the long range specialists and tore towards the beasts. They screamed with a gargled roar as the light cut through their skin, a trail of liquid fire simmering in the air behind it. But neither fires found flesh to sear. The light was enveloped in the creatures' meat, and simply seemed to become extinguished. The liquid fire slapped against their skin, but barely appeared to cause more than a modicum of scalding upon their hides.

  The beasts in both Egypt and Bulgaria glanced at their wounds momentarily, and the operatives took those seconds to throw the barrier back up. In Cairo, it was just in time for its next barrage of attacks. In Sofia, they were less fortunate. Dark teeth tore through the flesh of one of the operatives, whilst the others tried desperately to fight it off with quick castings. Light enveloped them, leaving the slimy fiends alone in the sewers once again.

  “We need a new strategy,” Tali said, turning to Faith.

  He nodded as he watched the chaos unfold across the remaining three locations.

  “I've got a bloody plan. . .” Raven cackled, as she launched herself over the top of the barrier, pounding the monster in Gambia with her knuckle dusters.

  Fire erupted across its skin, but none of the flames from impacts lasted anywhere as close to the attack she lobbied in New York. Tentacles whipped wildly, and she danced around them, enjoying every second of her assault.

  Shana did not approve of Raven's methodology, but reluctantly drew a sword and launched into the fray. Her first strike cut half-way through a tentacle, but did not sever it completely. She attempted to pull it out and try again, but found the blade stuck in the meat, as if the musculature of the wound was stronger than every ounce of strength she put into retrieving her weapon.

  “Something is wrong. . .” she gasped, as she let go of the blade and backed away whilst tendrils whipped wildly.

  “Get her out of there,” Faith instructed. “Get them all bloody out of there!”

  Tali sent the order through to Three, and one by one the teams were evacuated.

  “They're stronger than we thought. . .” he muttered under his breath.

  “They're not stronger,” Tali realised, “they're smarter. . . they're learning from one another, learning about us, about how we attack them. . .”

  “That's not possible.”

  “Of course it is, like any brood species. . . Think about it, one was cut, it taught the others to grab hold of a bloody blade! One was hit by solid light that contained fire, and now the others know to block the light and they don't get burned. . .”

  “No way to know that for sure.”

  “But if I'm right. . . We can't use the same casting or weapon twice on these things. Each one has to be killed in a specific, unique way, or it's going to be able to buff off the attack.”

  “So, we need a new plan.” Faith growled.

  “More than that. . . we need a new plan to take down each of these damn things. . .”

  22

  The realm he called home

  THE OUTER REALMS

  Shaman Kahgo slowed as he came towards the glows that signified the resting place of the great and mighty Old One he sought. But this place, the star of Xoth, was unlike any star he had ever heard of. It did not burn as stars were wont to do. It was not gaseous or made of liquid that burned for unimaginable time-frames. It appeared to be a star in name alone, looking as though it were solid, the surface closer to a gleaming formation of shiny glass or crystal. It was certainly the size of a star. . . and given the immense scope of the mass ahead of him, he could not even begin to comprehend where he might so much as start his search, let alone how long it might take to scour every crevice in search of an entry point to Idh-yaa's resting place.

  He propelled himself onwards, and stood upon the surface. Even though it looked crystalline, it somehow did not have the texture of crystal. It did not feel as though it were strong as a crystal might be, and he plunged a tentacle towards the surface of the star, in a crude attempt to test the strength of this curious material.

  His appendage cracked straight through the surface, as if it were merely the shell of an egg. The glowing shards of the star's crust tumbled into the darkness that lay beneath, and he stared down into the chasm that lay below. The glimmers of the broken surface found something solid down there upon which to bounce off of, cracking once again, their light becoming weaker the smaller the shards became. But the further they dropped into the darkness, the more they revealed small glimpses, sections of something in the shadows. It looked organic, compiled of large cylindrical segments, one on top of the other. Each metamer bulged at the centre, undulating to the rhythm of the organs contained wit
hin, and thinning out before the next. And each had thousands of razor-tipped spines bristling out along the sides, making the thing look as though it were the body of some colossal, hellish earthworm

  It whipped around, throwing the illumination far from its form. But whatever this creature in the dark was, it appeared to know that it was being spied upon. There was a sickly smacking sound that echoed out as it stretched its body, and in an instant, had flitted across the vast space within the hollow shell of Xoth. Shaman found himself staring right into the massive yellow eye of something that seemed as large as the star itself. He could barely comprehend the length, but imagined that due to the magnitude of the planetary body it inhabited, it must have been something close to a million miles long, curled up deep in the heart of the star.

  There was a long and hostile hiss that rumbled out from the core of the hollow sphere, and had he not been taught a myriad tongues of the Outer Realms by his father, Kahgo might well have taken it as just a hiss. But as much as he knew so many languages, this one was rare to be spoken. And it was a language, that much was obvious, but the actual meaning of the sound was lost on him. Shaman blamed himself, his youthful hubris, for not paying more attention to his studies, for as uncommon as this language was, it had been his duty to learn all he could. . . he had failed at this task. But he had to hope that it would not mean his reason for being there was also doomed to failure.

  “Idh-yaa,” he said, speaking the creature's name simultaneously in three languages, “I am unworthy to speak your tongue, and beseech thee to converse in one more suitable for a lowly mongrel such as I.”

  He was hoping to find favour with the Old One by deprecating himself for her pleasure. If she did not bend to the request, he could not imagine how to present the offer he had for her from Janai'ngo.

  The great eye narrowed, the mighty glow of it fading, and the god within the star seemed to pull away from the crack he had made in its surface. Her body whipped around, revealing it to be even longer than he had even imagined.

  “Speak,” she hissed, in a dialect he recognised as that of her groom.

  He took a moment to put together all the thoughts he had had in the journey from the watery sphere. There were many ways in which he could attempt to court the Mighty Mother's favour, but there was one that felt as thought it might be more successful than the others, the one that preyed upon her emotions―assuming she, a being of such cosmic proportions even had such a thing. “Great Idh-yaa, I am Sha'ma N'doda'k'rgo, son of Khal'kru. I was brought here from the Natural World, . . The place of your husband's slumber. I know his resting place well, and have visited the Great Dreamer from time to time, to make certain that he is undisturbed by those that have colonised the realm.”

  Kahgo paused for a moment, as the god beneath the crust of Xoth blinked. Her great eye appeared to be getting glassy, but he could not truly tell whether that was emotion coming to the surface, or simply the natural lubrication that occurred in one so grand of scale.

  “The Sleeper of R'lyeh still lives. . . but the world of man is a harsh and hostile place, it does not respect that which has come before it as it should. There are frequent examples of them destroying the old to propel the new. . . and I fear that my imprisonment on this side of the veil might not bode well for your groom, should I be trapped here for further aeons. . .”

  The eye was definitely glassy, and she blinked once more, sending a gargantuan tear from her ducts, that rolled down the length of her body, disappearing into the darkness.

  “I wish to return, to protect the realm, and stand guard over your betrothed, so that no man may harm him whilst he remains in his slumber. . . But for that to occur, I have made an accord with the guardian Janai'ngo. . . And he has asked of me to fulfil a wish, to request your presence at his resting place, that I convince you to travel to the Watery Gates to meet with him.”

  Her eye widened, and in an instant, seemed to lose any hint of the moisture that previously welled. Kahgo could not tell whether this was due to the mention of the crustacean deity, or due to something as small as him daring to ask such a request of one of her standing.

  “I beg you, Mighty Mother of the star spawn Ghatanothoa, Ythogtha, Zoth-Ommog and Cthylla, please grant me this request, for as much the sake of your great and powerful husband, as for my own, wretched self. . .“

  The eye shot towards the crack in the star's crust once again, filling the slim hole with a bright yellow glow that nearly blinded him with its intensity.

  “It is unbefitting of a. . . mongrel, as you say. . . to be addressing one such as I. . .” she hissed.

  Kahgo pulled back from the surface of the star, and put up tentacles in front of his myriad eyes, in the vain attempt to save his sight from the almighty rays of the god's stare.

  “And yet. . . I respect your care for he who sleeps. . . Not that it sways my favour one way or the other. . .”

  His heart sank, as the creature pulled back once again into the deep dark of Xoth's core.

  “But although I care not for the emotion you attempt to draw forth with your petty manipulations. . . I shall journey to the home of Janai'ngo. . . for my own reasons, rather than those petty and frail excuses you spit so feebly. . .”

  She shot towards him, and Kahgo barely had the wherewithal to propel himself out of the way as the crust of Xoth exploded outwards into the abyss.

  The entire bulk of Idh-yaa rocketed past him, sending him head over heels into the black. Her body was longer than he ever could have imagined, segmented and covered in spines for only the top half, with the lower half having no spines, but instead a myriad thin and long tendrils that squirmed wildly as she continued to burst forth from the cage she had created for herself since her husband absconded for the Natural World.

  The tendrils shot towards Kahgo, taking hold of him with a strong and firm grasp, without the god stopping for even the mere thought to check whether or not he had been injured in the process of her emergence from the star.

  Idh-yaa whipped through the eternal abyss at frantic and impossible speeds that Shaman Kahgo could not even begin comprehend. It was as if she had spent aeons conserving her strength for a moment just as this. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would survive such a perilous and hasty journey, trying as best he could to keep track of the vast distances they were crossing.

  Soon they would arrive at the site of Janai'ngo's waters. And soon, he prayed, after so many countless years in this place, he might finally be able to return to the realm he called home.

  23

  Their birthright

  The creatures prophesied by the Red Rain had been resting, hiding, waiting. The attacks upon them had been short-lived, and they had learned much as each one of those assaults had been carried out. But finally, the time they had been waiting for had come.

  The call was silent, and despite it having no words, each of the creatures heard it, their master's intent laid out in so simple a fashion that each of them was surprised that it had taken this long for the decree to arrive.

  The attacks, the falling of their brethren, it was proof―as if any further proof was actually necessary―that there was no method by which they could coexist with those that lived above. Not that many of them entertained such notions, but for those few that did believe man could be allowed to survive, the shared experience of pain and death had swiftly changed their minds. They were communal creatures, one experience was all's experience, and what had occurred within the sewers was clearly nothing short of brutal and violent murder.

  And then there was the one of their number that bettered their attackers, one who learned they could sense when and where they might appear in a flash of light. That was evidence that their senses and understanding of the magick that resided in the realm was far more advanced that the bipeds that had taken the world above for their own selfish ends.

  There was no reason to delay any further. Each of those that was secreted under a city heeded the call, and began to slither through
the sewers. They made their way towards ladders and ducts and grates and outlets.

  Finally, it would soon be their time to claim the land for themselves―and they were emboldened by their master's certainty that there was no power in the Natural World that was mighty enough to stop them. Not any longer. Their ancestor had seen to that, its sacrifice gave way to their birthright. And now, they were close to finally claiming that very birthright, that had been kept from them for so many generations.

  24

  Accountable for all that came to pass

  EPICENTRE, THE CIRCLE

  Once again, there were too many operatives present for the briefing, and they assembled on the main floor of the Epicentre. However, this time the mood was turbulent.

  Some were sombre, the injuries sustained and losses to their ranks had created turmoil. Others were simply angry, at the monsters, at Faith, at Three, at anything that could be blamed for what had occurred.

  “We couldn't have seen this coming. . .” Faith grumbled. He took a breath, cleared his throat, and looked out over the room. He could tell that morale was low, and held himself accountable for all that came to pass. There was no excuse that could be made, no white lie that could be told. Honesty was his only course of action.

  “This species, whatever it is. . . we were foolish―I was foolish―to assume that it was like others we've seen before. . . We've all faced insurmountable odds, creatures from here and beyond, and each time they've been straightforward to dispatch with. . . it never occurred to us―to me―that a legion of 'thulus might be connected in the way these seem to be. . . But now we know. We know how they operate, how they learn from one another. . . and that gives us the advantage.”