A Shrouded World (Book 4): Valhalla

by Tufo, Mark

  “Paramilitary?”

  “Nope.”

  “Militia?”

  “Nope.” He seemed to be getting perturbed.

  “Guerillas?”

  “Mike.”

  “Gorillas, then. I mean, they’d be tough to handle but I’ve seen them do some serious damage.”

  “No, and I’m not even going to ask how you know that.”

  “Band of concerned citizens?”

  He walked faster to get away from me.

  “Just a band then? Those brass instruments could do some damage.”

  “Mike.” Jack stopped. “It’s not people of any kind, not animals either, I don’t think.”

  “Jack, I’ll do just about anything to save Trip, but you have got to give me something.”

  “What if I told you that we’re heading to a cave guarded by some sort of magical barrier and magical beings that offer up human sacrifices to summon…something?”

  “I’d say you’re watching Romancing the Stone or something, or maybe—what was that flick Mel Gibson directed, Apocalypto. Wait, nothing was summoned in that one, they were just trying to appease the rain gods or something.”

  “Mike, I’ve known you long enough to realize that you ramble when you’re scared.”

  “Terrified.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Did you really just whatever my terror?”

  “They were bringing something out from that cave.”

  “Jack, I can follow your line of reasoning for a little ways, but dude, you jumped the rails about half a mile back in your thought process. If this thing is forward or we can bring it forward, what the fuck makes you think it would do anything except cook us over an open fire?”

  He paused. “That’s a possibility—it’s not entirely happy with me at the moment.”

  My hand came up to my head and I swept it through my hair, knocking my hat off, then I did a half spin.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “I don’t know, I might be. I’ve been trying to keep a grip since Trip dropped my ass here and it’s not working so well.”

  “Let’s just go back, we’ll take our chances with a heaping of lead persuasion. I mean, if we are to go out tonight, it somehow seems better for it to be at the hand of something called an angel, don’t you think?”

  “That’s the thing, though; maybe we don’t have to get our ticket punched just yet.”

  “Oh, please don’t make me be the one who has to think shit through—there’s no way this works out well. How can something that requires a blood sacrifice to make its presence known be anything we’d want help from?”

  “I’m going to keep this simple, and not just because you’re a Marine.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Want to go home?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Who’s the one person who can do that for you?”

  “Tricked by words again. Sum’bitch.”

  “You in? Or am I going on my own?”

  “I’m scared, Jack; I’m not a dick.”

  “So you say.” He smiled and we started hiking.

  In the abstract, this sounded appalling, like we were hiring a serial killer to scare a schoolyard bully. Sure, it might work, but there wasn’t even a sliding scale for how many ways this could go sideways.

  We hiked for another couple of hours. My level of apprehension had not diminished; in fact, it had been steadily building, knowing what we were heading toward.

  “We need to start being quiet.” Jack was bent low when he spoke. I wanted to tell him I had been, but we had different ideas of stealth.

  “That where we’re going?” I pointed to a roaring fire off in the distance, illuminating a decent portion of the mountain it was burning against.

  “Yeah,” he said, and for the first time, I felt like maybe he was regretting this choice. “If we go up through the side, we pass through a barrier. We need to be careful: the acolytes, or whatever they are, have powers. They can manipulate air.”

  “And do what with it, like make you stop breathing?”

  “They can grab you and toss you with it.”

  “Now, Jack? Now you fucking tell me this? Your information-sharing skills suck ass.”

  “They can be killed easily enough.”

  “I hate so many things right now, I could kick a puppy.”

  Jack stopped. “No, you couldn’t.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  We went up the far side away from the fire. We came out a little higher than the plateau below us, and it’ll be years before I’m able to process all that I saw. There was an unbroken line of men chained together; the large barbed hooks driven deep into their flesh must have been how the current of the force field passed between them to create the wall—according to Jack, who assured me that they would do absolutely nothing to interfere with our plan. Wasn’t so sure about that, but I trusted him. There were seven beings, could not tell exactly what they were due to the robes and cowls they wore. They appeared human enough but old, ancient even, if the hand I saw wrapped around an ornamental knife was any indication. They were chanting—I mean, why wouldn’t they be? The cave behind them, which had been dark, was now softly glowing a dull reddish color, and getting brighter by the moment as the chanting increased in volume. There was no part of this that was going to make me think it was a good idea. There were six of the individuals doing the summoning and a young girl on the altar. A virgin, I would think; that’s how these things generally work. She must have been drugged because she was not struggling against her bonds and wasn’t even looking around.

  The first summoner was approaching the rock altar and was bringing his knife up. Jack pointed with his fingers that he would take the knife wielder and the two to his side. I was all for saving the girl; nobody anywhere deserved to go out like this. Well, that’s a lie; I’m sure there were enough d-bags around who had earned a knife to the chest, though I was fairly certain this girl wasn’t one of them. Jack fired a fraction of a second before I did; I just had time to see the knife holder fall over onto the girl, I could only hope the knife hadn’t found its mark. I fired into the chest of the next one up, two quick rounds before I moved on to the next and hit him or her in similar fashion. It was when I moved on to the third that I found myself stuck in a thick soup of air—that’s the only way I can describe it. I could move, but only with great difficulty, and only if I concentrated on moving individual parts.

  Seemed that each of us had left one of the elementals alive. Jack was being pushed back and was struggling even as he was swinging his muzzle into position. I was already on target but my finger was welded in position; the acolyte was straining, his outstretched arms were shaking. He was powerful, but this was a battle he was going to lose, eventually. Then the thought dawned on me that I didn’t really have time for “eventually.” The cave entrance was continually getting brighter; once whatever was in there passed through it was game over, and I didn’t have any more quarters to extend the game. Jack had slid another five feet back but was finally able to fire his weapon, this distracted the one holding me enough that I was able to pull my trigger as well. The release was instantaneous. We both ran to the girl; she was covered in blood but I was pretty sure none of it was hers. I cut her legs free, Jack cut the binds on her arms. He pulled her loose.

  Somehow the acolyte with the knife had landed on his own blade, plunged the thing hilt-deep into his chest. Seemed like poetic justice as far as I was concerned. There was more than a small part of me that was happy the chanting had stopped, and thus in theory so would the demon calling. Although that proved not to be the case. An extremely large clawed hand reached through the opening, followed by a heavily muscled arm, groping to grab hold of the altar. I made sure that I wasn’t anywhere near it. The hand wrapped around the stabbed acolyte’s body and lifted it into the air. Its thumb and forefinger were touching as it squeezed tight on the dying man’s chest. Not that the acolyte wa
s a huge man, but still, this thing—whatever it was—had wrapped its hand completely around him. It was huge, and it was coming. In the history of bad ideas, this one ranked pretty high. Somewhere between all the people laughing at Noah and his ark-building crew and Odin adopting Loki on the list of monumental mistakes.

  “Jack?” I asked, training my rifle on the muzzle of this thing that looked like the world’s largest bulldog crossed with a gargoyle, replete with a huge underbite and upward pointing canines, thick fur covered its forearms. The beast roared as it lifted the acolyte high into the air before smashing the body into its mouth, chewing through him like a fairgoer does a corn dog. It spit out the ornamental knife, which clattered off the stone altar. The beast sighed when it was done with its meal, then left the cave and stood. It was easily fifteen feet tall and completely packed with menace.

  “It’s not the same one…thank goodness,” Jack mumbled, just barely loud enough to be heard. “I don’t think that would have gone well.”

  “I am Kalandar!” he bellowed. “Breaker of dimensions, destroyer of worlds, third conqueror of Aradinia, soul-eater of ghouls, right-hand demon to the possessor, first of my kind to go forth into the wilds and return. I am the bringer of chaos into order, the slaughterer of Bazzaros, second kin to Denderia, she of the famed raid on the heavens. I have borne witness to the descent and will be there for the ascent. My might so feared, my skill so dreaded, and my knowledge so vast that entire prison realms were erected to keep me trapped. I am the chain breaker, the gargantuan among gods, the one so feared I was removed from Hades. All that stand before me quake in awe. My name alone strikes foreboding into the hearts of my enemies. There are none alive now or ever who could stand before me; those who would oppose me are impotent in their challenge! Who would dare to summon me?”

  I looked over at Jack, not sure what to say if anything at all. Jack took the reins.

  “I, umm, I’m Jack, that’s Mike,” he said, pointing.

  “Couldn’t come up with something a little more impressive?” I asked. I could just see him shrug his shoulders through the corner of my eye; I didn’t want to take my main focus off the monster in front of us. At first, I thought Kalandar’s skin was rippling, then I realized it was actually on fire with a low blue flame like that of a cooktop on simmer.

  “I am Jack, wanderer of worlds, champion of the night runners. Mike is the second in command of the Talbot clan, destroyer of zombies.”

  “Second?” I asked.

  “You told me about Tracy; you’re lucky you have that station.”

  “True.”

  “Why have you summoned me forth!?” His voice boomed through me like a rumbling waterfall.

  “Ah.” What do you tell a demon? “You’re not going to kill us?” Literally the first thing I could think to say.

  “Really?” Jack looked over at me.

  “You have summoned me forth, I am yours to command!” he boomed.

  For my first order of business, I wanted to tell him to go back from whence it had come.

  “There are overseers; they have our friend,” Jack said.

  “You wish for me to smite them?” He smiled.

  “Yeah, smite away.”

  “Maybe let me take the lead on this,” Jack replied.

  “What number are they?” Kalandar asked.

  “Four,” Jack answered.

  “Winged?”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “Do they possess wings, like a morning sparrow singing a song?” He seemed to have a whimsical expression before his normal scowl returned.

  “No wings,” Jack interceded.

  “Yeah, wingless angels, more like emus; emo emus.”

  “Mike!”

  “Right, sorry man, I’m terrified.”

  “They are not archangels, this is good. But four is a daunting number.”

  “Aren’t you a gargantuan among gods?” Jack spurred. “The breaker of chains? That’s what you said, right?”

  “Oh, that’s right, goad the big scary demon. And people say I don’t think before I talk.”

  “I am!” he said in a voice so loud my internal organs shook.

  Kalandar finally looked around, then studied us. “You are not acolytes. Where am I?”

  “Valhalla,” Jack said.

  “And Thor?” Kalandar asked, looking around—I would say with nervousness, but his face could have been chiseled from granite; it was difficult to tell what the minute changes meant, if anything.

  “Wrong Valhalla,” Jack said.

  “How is this possible? Only those who possess the blade of Hadinor and have studied the ancient underworld texts have the knowledge to bring me forth, and it is almost assured that this one does not contain any deep knowledge.” A finger the size of a fire hydrant unfurled and pointed at me.

  “Yet, here you are.” Jack deftly stepped around that question.

  “Yet here I am. Command, then, but do not break the rules of the bargain you have struck, for if you do I will eat your souls.”

  “Rules, what rules?” I asked.

  Kalandar bent down to look at me from less than a foot away, his left eye sweeping across my face and peering deeply into each of my own.

  “It would appear you have very little to eat,” he said as he stood. “Interesting. If you were unwise enough to bring me forth without the proper knowledge, it is not in my best interest to tell you.”

  “Jack, we need to send it back.”

  “We can’t, Mike, we need it.”

  “Jack, we have absolutely no idea what the covenant is. What if it’s just a matter of stepping on his toe or something? Feeding him Pop-Tarts after sundown, who fucking knows? We can’t risk it; we go back, and we deal with the overseers.”

  Jack was thinking about it; apparently, that was something we could accomplish, because Kalandar spoke up.

  “Perhaps I can give you a little guidance, something to garner some trust. I have been locked away in the Druid realm for centuries untold and I do not wish to go back; all I can hear is their incessant tranquility humming. It makes me want to hurt things.”

  “We’re listening,” Jack said.

  “There are six rules. I will give you one.”

  “All of them.” Jack was playing hardball. “Mike might be slightly dimwitted.”

  “Hey!”

  “But he’s right, we can’t risk you tearing us up and then roaming this world unchecked.”

  “Three.”

  “We’re not bargaining with the devil,” Jack said.

  Kalandar exploded. “I am not the devil! He has kept us down for far too long, groveling at the feet of others!”

  I got stuck on “others”—who else could he be referring to?

  “Five.” Jack moved past it smoothly.

  “Three or send me back; your friend’s time grows short. I do not know why the overseers have sought him out but they are an unforgiving lot.”

  Jack looked at me.

  “We need Trip,” I said.

  “Tell us.” Jack did not hesitate.

  The demon rubbed his hands together, not really a confidence-boosting signal. “First you must not say my name three times.”

  “Really, that’s a rule? Sort of Rumpelstiltskin-ish. So we can’t say, Kalan…”

  “Mike!”

  “What? I was just trying to figure out how to say his name; we would have had two more tries anyway.”

  “Oh, you believe the demon now? Everything it’s telling us is kosher? Like from the mouths of babes and shit?”

  “Well, if that’s the case, how do we even know that’s a rule?” I asked, attempting to defend myself.

  “Fuck it if you’re not right. We don’t know shit.”

  “I do not lie, I leave that to the great deceiver, who more than makes up for those of us who lack. Shall I continue?”

  Jack motioned with his hand.

  “I do not understand, is that some sort of spell binding?” Kalandar asked.

 
“Continue.”

  “Second, if you attempt to harm me,” he paused—“If you could”—he looked at both of us. “Then our agreement is over. And third, if either or both of you should die, I will be released.”

  “Jack, I feel like we each lit a stick of dynamite and then superglued it to our heads.”

  “You’d be all right,” Jack said.

  “I knew there was a reason I punched that airman that night in the bar.”

  “Shall we save your friend?” Kalandar asked.

  “And then what, Kali?” I asked.

  “Kali?” Jack asked.

  “We have to call him something, and ‘big red’ seems so cliché. What happens after, if we are successful in our attack?” I went back to the original question.

  “Who is to say what may happen. Four overseers is a mighty powerful clutch, it may very well be that they end all of our problems,” Kalandar said. As he began to walk, he grabbed two of the barrier-builders, one in each hand, and shoved them into his mouth, barely stopping to chew.

  “This…this just can’t be happening,” I said as I followed along, Jack immediately behind me.

  “You know the way?” Jack asked.

  “I can smell them from here. The stink of righteousness is heavy with their kind.” Kalandar stopped after he spoke and turned to look at us. “I want to be clear: the righteousness I smell is of their own making and benefits none but themselves. You will be hard-pressed to find a more self-centered creature, and that includes your kind. Which, in itself, is amazing.”

  It was hard to argue with that, and you know what? Kalandar was a fifteen-foot tall demon, so I wasn’t going to argue anyway.

  “I smell something…off.” Kalandar was sampling the air with his nose and tongue; it was a long tongue, but not snake-like as I expected a creature like him to have.

  I noticed Jack concentrating. “Night runners.” He got immediately tactical.

  “Are they coming?”

  “They’re actively hunting. We should get moving; they haven’t found us yet.”

  “Night runners?” Kalandar was interested, probably wanted to know how they tasted.

  Jack gave him the quick rundown of how the night runners had come into being and what they were capable of doing. Their strengths and their limitations.