Metal fingers—as cold as the mist—wrapped around Darek's neck just then. Darek choked and his hands flew to the fingers to pry them off, but the grip around his neck was as firm as a mountain.
“But I suppose it makes sense that you would show such startling ignorance,” said the Ghostly God. “You mortals only barely understand us southern gods. It's not like I have a temple and religion that you could go to and find out all about me, like my northern siblings do.”
The Magical Superior pointed his staff at the fingers around Darek's neck, but he did not fire anything from its tip.
“Trying to save your student?” said the Ghostly God. “Pathetic old man. You know you can't free him from my grasp without putting his very life at risk. I know how much you value the safety of your students, Magical Superior, so your bluff doesn't scare me in the slightest.”
A brief glimpse into the Magical Superior's eyes was enough to tell Darek that the Ghostly God was correct. Lowering his staff, the Magical Superior said, “What do you have to gain from threatening the life of one of my students, Ghostly God? What did he do to deserve that?”
“I am looking to strike a deal with you, Magical Superior,” said the Ghostly God. “A deal I did not think I would ever need to strike, but considering how my plans to open Braim's grave coincided with your need to find out what my idiotic servants were up to, I consider it a necessary deal.”
“What kind of deal?” said the Magical Superior.
“A simple one,” said the Ghostly God. “In exchange for letting your student here free, you will dig up Braim Kotogs' grave for me. That is all I ask of you.”
“Why do you want me to dig up the grave of my deceased pupil?” the Magical Superior asked.
“That is none of your business,” said the Ghostly God. “What matters is whether you accept the deal or not. Don't forget that I am more than willing to harm your student if you choose to reject the deal.”
The Magical Superior looked from Darek and the grave and back again before saying, “Where is Skimif? He told me he was going to deal with you.”
“Skimif doesn't even know I'm here,” said the Ghostly God with a snort. “When he came to Zamis, my island, last week, I told him that I was sorry for causing so much trouble. The naïve idiot seemed to believe me because he left me alone after that and I haven't heard a word from him since.”
“So you are a liar and a deceiver,” said the Magical Superior. “Of course you are. I've heard all about the southern gods and their lack of decent morals. It is disgusting.”
“I am beginning to rethink that all of the rumors I heard about your devotion to the gods were severely distorted,” said the Ghostly God. “Disgusting … you make us southern gods sound like rock slugs. But it doesn't matter. The point is, Skimif doesn't even realize I'm here. So I am waiting for you to agree to my deal.”
“When did I say I would ever agree to that awful deal you offered me?” said the Magical Superior.
The Ghostly God's grip tightened around Darek's neck; not enough to cut off his air supply completely, but enough to make Darek gasp in pain. Darek reached for the deity's fingers again, but he was so weak now that he couldn't do more than pat the Ghostly God's fingers futilely before letting his arms fall to his sides.
“I will kill him,” said the Ghostly God simply. “Without hesitation or mercy.”
“But the Treaty says that you southern gods cannot kill mortals beyond the Dividing Line,” said the Magical Superior. He pointed at the ground. “This is far above the Dividing Line. Therefore, your threat is empty.”
“Can you be so sure about that?” said the Ghostly God. “The Powers were creative geniuses of the highest order; however, they were not legal scholars. There are many loopholes in the Treaty that we gods, whether northern or southern, have learned to exploit over the years. No doubt I could find a loophole that allows us southern gods to kill mortals on the other side of the Dividing Line.”
“Could is different from can, Ghostly God,” said the Magical Superior. He pointed his staff at Darek. “Now let Darek go.”
“Only after you open the grave,” said the Ghostly God. “But I can see this is getting nowhere fast. The longer I stay here, the more likely it becomes that Skimif will notice I am here and come to stop me. Uron?”
At that moment, the sound of something long and heavy slithering across the ground entered Darek's ears. He at first could not see the snake (that was what he assumed it was, because what else slithered across the ground?), but then he felt something thick and powerful climbing up his body.
Looking down, Darek saw a snake—almost twice as long as his body—curling up around him. Its body felt icky and slimy, clinging to his torso as though it were covered in paste. Its skin was purplish-black, a familiar color, but Darek was too petrified to remember where he had seen that color before.
Soon the snake had wrapped its body around his completely, acting like a thick rope, making it impossible for Darek to move at all. He couldn't even reach for his new wand, which was in his left pocket.
The giant snake twisted its head so it was looking at Darek. Something flickered behind its sickly yellow eyes, something dark and intelligent, but the flickering was there for only a minute. In the next instant, the snake's eyes returned to normal, but that did not make them look any less frightening or intimidating.
Then Darek felt the Ghostly God's fingers leave his throat. Gasping for air, Darek breathed hard as the Ghostly God himself—a large titan of a deity—materialized into existence beside Darek. He began stroking the snake's head, a wicked smile on his face as he looked down at the Magical Superior.
“Meet Uron,” said the Ghostly God, gesturing with his head at the snake. “My pet teleporter snake. He is a loyal servant, infinitely superior to my other servants in just about every way. He does whatever I ask of him, without question or comment, and always does it efficiently.”
“I have never seen a teleporter snake that big before,” said the Magical Superior, his old eyes focused on Uron's head. “Where did you find it?”
“That is none of your business,” said the Ghostly God. “But allow me to give you a brief lesson about teleporter snake biology. The average teleporter snake is capable of crushing rocks into powder, making teleporter snakes one of the strongest species of snake in the animal kingdom. I know this only because my brother, the Loner God, once told me about them years ago.”
“I don't understand,” said the Magical Superior. “How is that trivia relevant to—oh. I see.”
The Ghostly God's pasty grin grew even larger. “Perhaps you are intelligent after all.”
“What is going on?” said Darek. He was almost too frightened to speak, but he had to because he didn't like the way the Magical Superior's eyes had widened in horror. “I don't understand.”
“But apparently, your student here has failed to take after you,” said the Ghostly God with a sigh. “You see, student, I am incapable of killing any mortals beyond the Dividing Line, as your headmaster so accurately put it. But that says nothing about any of my servants who I may employ to kill mortals I do not like.”
“Is that Uron's job?” said Darek, looking at the snake's face, which looked content being petted by the Ghostly God. “Is he going to—”
“He will,” said the Ghostly God, without looking at Darek. “Unless the Magical Superior here agrees to my deal. I do not know, however, if he cares enough about you to want to save your life like this.”
Darek returned his attention to the Magical Superior. He looked far more torn than Darek had ever seen him in his life. Under ordinary circumstances, the Magical Superior would probably keep resisting, but these were no ordinary circumstances. This was a god threatening to kill one of his students, a god who could easily carry out that threat no problem.
It was a hard choice to make. Even Darek had a hard time figuring out what the Magical Superior should choose to do. Darek didn't want to die, but he wasn't foolish enough to believ
e that the Ghostly God's plans for Braim's grave were benign.
Then the Magical Superior's shoulders slumped. “Fine, Ghostly God. I will dig up Braim's grave in exchange for Darek's safety.”
“Excellent,” said the Ghostly God. “You are a far more reasonable man than I thought. Good for you. Now get to work.”
“Why don't you free Darek first?” said the Magical Superior. “That way, I know you will keep your end of the bargain.”
“You mistake me for a businessman,” said the Ghostly God. “And a very foolish one at that. I can see right through your tricks. You want me to let Darek go so you two can escape. I will not fall for it. Neither will Uron.”
When the Ghostly God said that, Uron hissed at the Magical Superior. Its deep red tongue shot out of its mouth when it did so, the sound so loud to Darek that his ears ached.
“Get to work,” said the Ghostly God. “Or I will order Uron to turn your student into little more than a fleshly sack of bone powder.”
The Magical Superior looked like he was going to attack the Ghostly God, but then he let out a sigh of resignation and turned to face the grave. He pointed his staff at the grave, and for a moment, nothing happened.
Then the dirt began to rise out of the grave. It was like a giant, invisible hand was scooping up the earth. It rose slowly, but in a minute or two, the grave had been dug out. The giant clump of dirt, resembling a crude sphere, hovered in the air above it, bits of earth occasionally breaking off and falling into the open grave below.
Without a word, the Magical Superior moved the mound of earth over to the right of the grave. He placed it gently on the ground and then stepped back and looked at the Ghostly God.
“There,” said the Magical Superior, gesturing at the now-open grave. He sounded close to tears. “The grave of Braim Kotogs, my former pupil and my nephew, is now open for your perusal.”
The Ghostly God hovered past Uron and Darek, his eyes focused entirely on the open grave before him. Even Uron appeared eager to see what was inside, for his yellow snake eyes followed the Ghostly God's progress and his body tightened around Darek's.
As the Ghostly God drew closer to the grave, the Magical Superior stepped in his path. The God of Ghosts and Mist stopped and looked down on the Magical Superior, but it was impossible to see his facial expression with his back facing Darek.
“What are you doing, mortal?” said the Ghostly God. “Get out of my way.”
“Not until you uphold your end of the deal and let Darek go,” said the Magical Superior. “That was the deal.”
The Magical Superior did not look even slightly afraid of the Ghostly God, despite the fact that the god was several feet taller than him and at least a foot thicker. That made Darek admire the Superior even more than he already did, which was saying something, seeing as Darek already respected the Magical Superior more than anyone else at the school.
But his admiration turned to horror as the Ghostly God slapped the Magical Superior in the face. The blow sent the Magical Superior staggering to the right. He tripped over his robes and fell on his side, a stunned expression on his ancient features as the Ghostly God let out a sound of disgust.
“Superior!” Darek cried out, but Uron constricted more tightly around Darek's body, thus cutting him off before he could say anything else.
“As I said before, Magical Superior,” said the Ghostly God, shaking his head. “I am not a businessman, especially not an honest one. As a god, I have no need to respect the pitiful agreements I may make with mortals, even if these mortals are allegedly faithful supports of the gods.”
The Magical Superior groaned in pain, but he didn't say anything. Clearly, the Ghostly God's slap had been stronger than it looked if the Magical Superior was incapable of recovering from it. Darek was thankful the Superior wasn't dead, but he didn't look like he would be getting up anytime soon.
Then the Ghostly God pointed at the open grave. His hand balled into a fist and he jerked it upward.
At the same time, an old, boxy coffin rose out of the grave. It was almost too dark to see its features, but Darek could tell that its lid was cracked, almost in half, and that it was covered in dirt. He was surprised it was as whole as it was, seeing as the coffin had been in the earth for thirty years without being disturbed by anyone.
The Ghostly God directed the coffin over to the other side of the grave. When the coffin touched the ground, the Ghostly God pulled his arm back. A happy smile spread across the Ghostly God's face, the kind of smile that only someone who had succeeded in what they had longed to do could have.
“I am so close now to achieving what I want,” said the Ghostly God, his voice low, but excited. “So close now.”
He snapped his fingers. The coffin's lid exploded off, flying up into the mist and out of sight. A loud thunk was the only indication that it had landed somewhere, although Darek was too busy looking at the coffin in horror to care about where its lid had landed.
There's nothing I can do to stop him or avenge the Magical Superior, Darek thought. Looks like it's over. He's won.
So he thinks, young mortal. He may be a god, but that does not make him intelligent or clever.
Darek froze. That voice. He recognized it. It was the same voice that had spoken to him in his dream. He had not expected to hear it again. But where was it coming from?
Without really knowing why, Darek looked over to his left. Uron was staring at him, but his eyes no longer looked animalistic. An intelligence far above that of any teleporter snake gleamed within and Uron's snake-like mouth was twisted in a mockery of a smile.
That was when Darek put two and two together and realized just who the voice belonged to.
But before he could ask Uron just what—or who—he really was, the snake let go of his body. No longer constricted, Darek fell to his hands and knees, too weak to stand. The pressure that Uron had applied to his body had taken more out of him than he realized.
Nonetheless, he managed to look up in time to see Uron slithering toward Braim Kotogs' open casket. The Ghostly God must have noticed Uron making a mad scramble for the coffin as well because he shouted, “Uron! What do you think you're doing? Stop right this instant or—”
The Ghostly God did not get to finish his sentence. Uron slithered into the casket as fast as lightning. As soon as the tip of its tail disappeared into the coffin, a blindingly bright erupted from the coffin, so bright that it drowned out the whole world.
But although Darek was completely blinded by the light, his hearing worked just fine, and what he heard frightened him more than any sudden loss of sight:
A horrible, deep laugh … the laugh that Darek had heard from his dream. And it was coming from Braim's open casket.
Chapter Fourteen
Stepping out of the ethereal and onto the island of Bleak Rock, Durima shuddered when a cold, biting wind blew through. Although her physical form gave her a thick fur coat which usually worked at blocking the cold, it was still imperfect (as all physical bodies were), which was why she shivered when she stepped onto Bleak Rock.
Gujak didn't even have fur. He had exited before her in order to scout ahead for any danger, but when Durima saw him, he was shivering like crazy. She wondered why he had not shivered so much back in the Great Berg, but decided that it was not a question worth thinking about right now, not when they had more important things to worry about.
“N-No enemies or traps,” said Gujak, his teeth chattering. “At least none out here. Didn't go inside because I wanted to wait until you got here so we could go in t-together.”
Durima nodded. She looked around at Bleak Rock, because this was the first time she had ever visited the island and so did not know what it looked like.
It was completely different from Zamis. It had no beach at all; instead, it had what appeared to be a high cliff with no railing to catch anyone who might fall off. They were hundreds of feet above sea level, which explained the strong gusts of wind that tore through like enraged baba ra
ga.
The island itself was rather small, despite its height. There were no signs of wildlife, not even any seagulls searching for food. The waves that crashed against the base of the island below had smoothed out it to the point where the island's base was practically unclimbable. No wonder it was called Bleak Rock. Just standing here was enough to make Durima feel depressed.
“So how do we get inside?” said Durima.
Gujak jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “T-There's an entrance behind me, the only one I could find. Just like Master said there would be.”
“Then what are we doing, standing around here getting our toes and fingers frozen off?” said Durima. “Let's go inside and find that gauntlet already.”
Gujak nodded and turned, walking toward the gap in the rock that would take them deep into the island itself. That was another unusual thing about Bleak Rock. Whereas most islands were large enough to support their flora and fauna on their surface, Bleak Rock's surface was tiny, with little room even for the two of them. The island's actual terrain, where the object of their mission was supposed to be, was hidden underground. How far down it went and what was down there exactly, Durima didn't know, aside from a handful of vague, disturbing rumors she had heard over the years.
I sincerely doubt we'll find the bones of deceased gods down there, Durima thought. Or anything else, for that matter. This island seems abandoned to me. No life here at all.
Of course, she and Gujak would have came to Bleak Rock much earlier than they did, but the Ghostly God had given them specific instructions to wait one week before going. He had told them that he wanted to time their arrival on Bleak Rock with his own journey to North Academy. He had said that timing the two events so they would happen simultaneously was very important because it was the only way to keep Skimif from putting a stop to his plans before they came to fruition, as Skimif could not be in two places at once.
That made some sense to Durima, she thought as she watched Gujak pick up a rock and toss it into the gap in the rock to test for any traps they were unaware of. She remembered well how Master had told her about how Skimif had came to Zamis last week and threatened to punish the Ghostly God for what his servants had done, forcing Master to 'apologize' for what he did and to vow never to do that again.
The Mage's Grave: Mages of Martir Book #1 Page 17
