The House of Grey- Volume 6

by Earl, Collin

  Casey pointed upwards. “Don’t forget the big ones flying out of the Coliseum.”

  Monson and Artorius raised their eyes, only to see the large creatures they had left mere minutes ago streaming out of the top of the structure and heading in their direction.

  “Grey.”

  “Yeah Arthur.”

  “If I die without ever having a girlfriend, I swear I am going to come back and haunt you.”

  Monson laughed as he finished scripting his spell. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He spoke the words of the spell— “Combat Spell Fifty: Molded Spears”—and touched the ground to release the spell. The earth moved at his command, shaping and reshaping until several dozen long, pointed rock spears enclosed the boys in a protective circle of stakes.

  “I guess you really did like 300, eh?” said Casey. “Spartans are awesome. Told you it was a good flick.”

  With a second slap of the ground and another whispered phrase, the massive stakes scattered about with deadly accuracy. The spears found their mark, skewering unsuspecting gargoyles where they stood. Casey and Artorius, not to be outdone, followed Monson’s spell with ones of their own. They both launched a series of small, molten fireballs, flinging the baseball-like projectiles at machine-gun speed.

  Gargoyle after gargoyle fell under the combined pressure of the spells, but still they came; they were neither cautious nor fearful. Although for a time Monson was quite hopeful— the tactic was working and they were leveling scores of the magical creatures—after the seventh or eighth use of these spells, Monson knew they were in trouble. The spells were tiring him out and his two friends were burning through their Glyian Combat Gloves’ power sources. Not to mention, the spells were losing their potency. He did not know how much longer they would have access to them. Sure enough, after a few more minutes of frantic fighting, Artorius and Casey’s gloves went dead, reduced to magical oven mitts. And still the flocks of gargoyles kept coming, many of the smaller ones and an increasing number of the large ones. The boys were going to be forced to rely on their swords, which was not a promising prospect. They needed to think of something, and fast.

  “Do we run?” Monson yelled after completing another combat spell.

  Artorius scanned the area, his head swiveling from left to right as he spun on the balls of his feet, releasing another combat spell. “I don’t think there is anywhere to run.”

  He gripped his claymore more tightly. “I think this might be the last stand, boys; don’t see how we’re getting out of this one.”

  Casey threw his combat glove on the ground and sprinted to retrieve a second discarded sword. He quickly retreated to Monson and Artorius as they all stood with their backs to each other.

  “If they separate us we’re screwed, so keep it tight.”

  Artorius and Monson each took a step back to close the circle. Casey dipped his head in approval.

  More gargoyles landed and surrounded the boys; five became ten, ten became twenty, twenty became a whole lot more, while off in the distance, the Midday Darkness let loose more and more of its deadly payload. Monson could see the black pods striking the ground, unfolding their newfound wings, and moving off into different directions. The beady-eyed creatures appeared to have a plan, leaving no room for escape or survival. A roar from the demon nearest them seemed to indicate their readiness for their final assault.

  In one motion, the agents of darkness rushed forward. The scene was almost majestic. The creatures charged, unified in purpose, acting as one. It really was too bad that they were going to meet their demise at the hands of these creatures, because there was something to be learned from them.

  Monson cast his “Daggers of Light” spell one last time and attacked, knowing there were too many gargoyles for them to fight and still hope to survive.

  “Don’t you give up, Grey,” called a disembodied voice. “Not yet.”

  Monson smiled, still watching the charging creatures. I’m not giving up, he thought. I just don’t know how we’re going to get out of this.

  “Monson Grey, don’t ignore me!”

  Monson realized that the voice was not from within his consciousness or even from the crazy trio of beings who had taken up residence there. It was coming from above, accompanied by the dull thud of what sounded like wings.

  A roar directly overhead caused Monson and the others to look up. A herd of Dragoons with members of H.U.M.A.N.E. astride their backs was hovering above. Among them was none other than….

  Monson punched his fist into the air. “Grayson!”

  Grayson Garrett, riding a huge white dragon, waved but then immediately set to work. He raised one of his hands, clutching what looked like reins, while he threw his other hand into the air. His arm remained up briefly until he brought it sharply forward towards the oncoming gargoyles. Brilliantly colored flames shot from the mouths of the dragons and swarmed over the gargoyles in a sea of destructive brilliance. The gargoyles were pushed back with flame, tooth and claw as the Dragoons fell upon them. The noises of battle slowly faded away as the fighting moved farther and farther from Monson and the others. Artorius and Casey slackened their grips on their blades and Monson let his magic daggers dwindle and disappear.

  The ground shook as the massive white dragon landed with a boom and looked down imperiously at the three teenage boys, causing them to fidget.

  Casey leaned in to whisper. “Is it just me or does that thing look like it’s going to eat us?”

  Before either Monson or Artorius could answer, Casey was already calling up to the Dragoon. “Excuse me, Mr. Dragoon sir, I think you should know that Arthur over there has by far the most meat on him. I’m bony and Grey might explode at any moment.”

  Artorius struck him on the arm. “Uncool, Cassius, totally uncool!”

  Casey rubbed at his arm, “Ow…just saying….”

  The boys took a few steps back as the huge white dragon lowered its head. Grayson rubbed the back of the beast’s head. “Easy, Legon, easy.”

  Monson’s eyes went wider than should have been possible. He whispered to Casey. “Dude, I might be crazy but I think that dragon just rolled its eyes.”

  Casey mimicked the eye-rolling movement but stopped himself mid-roll, staring at the massive white beast. “You know, considering the day we’re having, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  They both eyed the creature uneasily and were alarmed when it smirked and then winked at them.

  “Don’t worry fellas,” called Grayson in his thickest southern accent. “He’s perfectly harmless.”

  Artorius, Monson and Casey still could not help taking a step back. Despite his apprehension, Casey zoned in on Grayson. “I thought you were supposed to remain behind and monitor the forces.”

  Grayson shrugged. “I was, but legendary phenomena have a tendency to bring us intellectual types out of hiding.”

  Casey smiled slightly. “Did he really just call himself ‘intellectual’?”

  Grayson ignored him and continued with his thought. “Anyway, Mr. Gatt and Brian should be here any–speak of the devils.”

  He nodded over their shoulders where Brian and Mr. Gatt had just arrived. They did not look happy.

  “Just what on God’s green earth—” started Mr. Gatt.

  “—Were you doing?” finished Brian. They spoke in matching tones of frustration and incredulity. “Monson Grey, you’d better have one hell of a reason for running out of that Coliseum without any protection.”

  They stared at Monson, waiting for his response. Casey, however, was the one who started talking.

  “Monson had the genius idea that people might have a fighting chance if he painted a bull’s eye on his back.”

  “A bull’s eye on his back? Explain, Cassius.”

  Casey explained their flight out of the Coliseum, their combat with the gargoyles, and Monson’s massive release of silver-hued Kei. As he finished, Mr. Gatt and Brian stared at Monson, dumbstruck.

  “So they left t
o come after you?” asked Mr. Gatt. Monson nodded in the affirmative.

  “Yeah…I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “Well, I don’t really know for sure.” Monson quailed under the furious expressions of Mr. Gatt and Brian. “I mean, I figured since those things showed up right after I used the machine that maybe the machine or I had something to do with their sudden appearance. So I released a bunch of power to test the theory and—”

  “And those things came at us like fat women at a Ben and Jerry’s buffet,” interrupted Artorius. “They seem to be sensitive to magical power–Monson’s magical power, actually.”

  Mr. Gatt and Brian exchanged uneasy looks, the latter nodding while the former sighed resignedly.

  Monson stepped forward. “You two know something, don’t you. About those things.”

  “We have a theory as well; a theory that was probably just confirmed by your little experiment,” answered Brian as he and Mr. Gatt put some distance between themselves and the boys. Mr. Gatt looked wearily at Brian, speaking in a low voice that was nonetheless audible to the boys.

  “Do you think you can handle this? It has been years since we have used the gate.”

  Brian smiled. “True, but it will be nostalgic, yes?”

  “Then shall we?”

  “We shall.”

  Brian and Mr. Gatt squared up to one another, closed their eyes, and started to chant as yellow Kei swarmed out from around them “I call upon the Keeper and speak his name…I command you.”

  They each raised a hand, slowly offering it to the other as the yellow Kei flowed from both participants and saturated the immediate area. Their voices overpowering, they called out together, “Samil, we command thee, join!”

  An explosion of yellow Kei shot skyward, blinding all in the vicinity for a lingering moment. When the light cleared, there was one where two had once been. One man sat in a glowing nimbus of light, exuding the very essence of power. If Monson had not known any better, he would have thought it was one of the Roman gods suddenly made manifest. That is, until the glowing being spoke in a voice that was reminiscent of both Mr. Gatt and Brian.

  “Monson, Cassius, Arthur, Grayson–are you with us?”

  The being took a step towards Monson and the others, his undulating Kei singeing the earth and plants around it. Monson and his friends instinctively shrank back, and could only watch as the Kei-covered being scripted a spell and spoke the words of power before them.

  “Combat Spell Ninety: Wandering Whirlwind!”

  The being extended his hands in either direction as a tornado-like wind shot out from his palms. Many dozens of gargoyles were rocketed away along with more trees, rocks and chunks of buildings. The being spun on his feet and then jumped twenty-five feet in the air before letting out a second violent blast. Many more gargoyles caught in the blast were torn up in the churning air. The four boys simply watched in wonder as the being landed just feet from them.

  A growling rumble from above told them all that the Midday Darkness was less than pleased, and without warning, the blackness in the sky spit out hundreds of new pods. Seeing this, Monson turned to the luminescent being.

  “Mr. Gatt? Brian?”

  The being, or man, or whatever it was, instantly found Monson’s eyes. Monson, in another unique first, stared at the face of one man with two countenances. This man was tall and mature, impatient yet regal, understanding but exasperated. The man was not Brian, was not Mr. Gatt; he was both of them and yet neither of them at the same time.

  The man spoke again and this time Monson was paying attention, enough so that he heard lingering echoes of more than one voice.

  “Grayson.”

  Grayson answered from atop his white dragon.

  “Yes?”

  “Take them out of here; get Grey and the others to safety.”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “Wait!” Monson interjected. “Don’t go shooing us off yet. Who…what are you?”

  Monson’s call fell upon deaf ears as the being was already walking towards a group of the freshly landed black pods, scripting yellow power-infused runes as he walked. “We are Paladins from the Holy Order of the Magi and we are here to protect you. We are your guardians, your guides, and your teachers. You are the Being of Seven Bloods. The one who will bring balance to the races and solve the Creation Conundrum. You, Monson Grey, are the one person who must survive this onslaught.”

  Monson rolled his eyes. “I get it, the Being of Seven Bloods already, but I need to tell you something about Bar–.”

  The Mr. Gatt-Brian mutation held up a hand, cutting off any further discussion. “Go!”

  Then he was gone and Monson’s group was alone, left to their own devices. Monson kicked at the ground in frustration. Casey, however, was laughing hysterically.

  Monson grumbled at him. “What’s so funny? You realize we just got left behind, right?”

  Artorius sighed. “You had to ask him, Grey….”

  “Come on, Arthur—this is like the sweetest thing ever!”

  Monson knew he would regret it but he asked anyway. “What are you on about now?”

  Casey’s grin grew larger. “Hello? We just witnessed a real-life fusion dance. Ha! And people say I watch too much anime….”

  More rumbling from above produced another barrage of black pods, many of which landed near the massive white dragon. Grayson held out a hand as if to offer a leg up to the top of Legon’s back “We need to leave, fellas; the environment is becoming hostile again.”

  Monson nodded towards the single man that was Mr. Gatt and Brian, now far in the distance fighting plenty of the black-winged creatures. Even from this distance, he could see the glint of a Magi Blade. “What about them—him—it, whatever, we can’t just leave him out there on…uh, their own.”

  “Umm, Grey,” answered Casey. “I don’t think they’re going to have any problems with—”

  “Grayson!” interrupted a loud, incredibly annoyed female voice.

  Grayson jostled unsteadily atop of Legon. “Kylie, why are you yelling? I’m right here and we’ve got Grey.”

  “You guys need to get airborne and now; we have huge problems!”

  “Kylie, wait a second. Slow down…”

  Monson cocked an eyebrow as Grayson directed his words upwards. “A loudspeaker?”

  Casey and Artorius both shrugged, as Casey answered. “Kylie is back at the rendezvous point where Grayson was supposed to be. I’m not sure what she’s getting all worked up about, though.”

  A single name commanded their attention. Grayson was almost yelling.

  “Cyann? What do you mean they took Cyann?”

  Chapter 59 - Chase

  “How did Baroty get Cyann again?”

  Monson, Grayson, Casey and Artorius were sitting on the back of the massive white dragon, Legon, racing towards the Battlefield. Artorius and Casey were checking their weapons and reloading the Creation Stones on their Glyian Combat Gloves. Casey sheathed his short sword before yelling aloud, “You tell us—you were the last one to see her.”

  Monson felt a twinge of guilt. He was the last to have seen her. He was also the one who had disabled her and thus eliminated any chance she had of defending herself.

  They were supposed to be hiding, thought Monson, gritting his teeth with impatience and guilt. Damion, what the hell are you—

  A thought occurred to him as he mentally chided Damion Peterson. Damion was with the others—Indigo, Boston and a whole bunch of other students! They all could have easily been….

  Another revelation smacked Monson: Ignace was working for Baroty…was helping him…oh no….

  “Grey,” Casey placed a hand on Monson’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  “This is all my fault.” Monson covered his eyes. “I knew they were after Cyann; I should have been more careful.”

  “Why don’t you share with the rest of the class?” Casey gave his shoulder another squeeze.

 
Monson nodded, not knowing what else to do, and quickly told the story of what had happened to Cyann and him in the Atrium, Baroty’s video/projection and charade as Monson’s grandfather, and knocking Cyann out and leaving her. He left out most of the details, knowing that the flying castle known as Legon would get them to wherever they were going in seconds. Nevertheless, he knew he had to relay what he could before the fighting started again. Artorius and Casey gave each other meaningful looks once Monson was finished.

  Artorius chuckled slightly. “You do realize that you’re in for an incredible beating once we save Cyann, right?”

  His response did not surprise Monson. “Yeah. She’s not going to be real happy with me for getting her caught.”

  Casey slapped Monson upside the head. “Grey, your idiocy is starting to take its toll on me. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Hang on, y’all,” Grayson called out. “I think we’re in for some turbulence.”

  “What was that, Grayson?” Monson yelled as he steadied himself on one of the dragon’s spikes.

  Grayson did not say anything else, but only pointed to the giant domed stadium on the horizon.

  Casey’s voice resounded before anyone else could voice their thoughts. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Roman soldiers–hundreds, maybe even thousands of them–surrounded the stadium where Coren University played its football games. Down below, dragons and the members of H.U.M.A.N.E. fought a three-way battle with the Midday Darkness and the Roman Legionnaires. There was no semblance of strategy, only survival under the combined pressure of mystical beings. Monson watched as members of H.U.M.A.N.E. and their large, scaly companions fell one after another to the gargoyles.

  “You fear the suffering of others,” a voice echoed from the depths of his mind. “Why does one such as you concern himself with the struggles of lesser beings?”

  Monson wanted to say that he was surprised by the observations and that the voice of whoever was speaking was not familiar to him. Such was not the case, however; He was very much aware of who was speaking. Monson responded.