Their work done, the slaves retreated into the surrounding wall to wait for the end of the next battle. No one appeared to lead me off. The earth didn’t rise up to sweep me out of the arena. I took this to mean that I was going to reprise my act. Well, I had other ideas.
I walked toward the box where the head Hysane lounged in barbaric comfort. I got as close as I could and stood there, staring up at him until he noticed my stare. He set down a jeweled cup on the massive arm of his throne and leaned forward, his man-boobs bouncing a little. He blinked little piggy eyes at me.
I raised my dagger and poured both shadow and fire into it. The knife became a sword. Like a living thing, the blade leaped in a frenzied spurt of growth, covering the distance remaining between us. The wall in front of the emperor jutted up to intercept my attack. I willed my blade to become a round shaft and sent it spinning like a drill bit. My weapon punched through the wall, covering several more feet. I wished I could have seen the effect, but the wall was in the way. After a moment, I pulled the sword back into a dagger again.
My action caused a wave of silence to flow across the stands. In that silence, I shouted, “Hey, Gutless-Wonder, why don’t you come down here and prove you can do something except sit on your ass?”
A mound of earth welled up under me, rippling with a hard jerk that sent me flying back. I clutched my toga as I tumbled, preserving my modesty as I fell to the hot sands. Other bumps formed, tossing me like a storm-whipped sea. I rode out the agitation, then picked myself up.
I saw that the wall had dropped in the royal box. Gutless was still on his throne. There was a hole in the backrest behind his head. He’d done some fast scrambling to still be alive. There were also several new guards in the box standing near him.
The crowd went wild, showing little respect for their emperor’s abused dignity. I thought it was time for them to get a taste of abuse as well. As I walked to the center of the arena, I formed as second dagger in my left hand. The orange flames around the shadow blades whipped as if windblown, but the air was still. I lifted my arm out to my sides. Both daggers became swords.
I remembered the sword I’d seen in Van Helsing’s office, the weapon that had looked like a meat cleaver on steroids. I used it as a pattern for my shadow-fire, bringing both swords together, merging them into a new weapon. If the blade had been actual metal, I could not have handled it, but little strength was required for the sword. It floated on the air as if supporting itself.
I felt the darkness in me winding in a tight coil of anticipation.
Greedy, aren’t you? I asked.
Yes, Mistress.
Hmmm. It was interesting to be addressed like a dominatrix, but perhaps it set a bad example. I wasn’t intent on dominating my other aspects; I just wanted them to be a little less unruly. Or else.
Shifting my awareness from the shadow side of me, I let Motherella’s insect pragmatism dampen my qualms about mass murder. I lifted my sword into the air in an act of defiance. Taliesina highjacked my voice for a moment, and I found myself unleashing that stupid battle cry, “Metamoriffic!”
The coiled darkness in me sprung up through my body, a torrent of ice and a scream of nothingness that filled my blade—like lightning gathered by a lightning rod—before blasting heavenward. If light could shine black, I was a lighthouse blasting into space. I shoved more and more darkness out of me until the shadow-force expanded sideways from the blade, widening into a column that swallowed my whole body. The draining surge continued long past the point where I thought I ought to run empty, and then it suddenly winked out.
Taliesina blinked at me inside my head.
That’s it? Motherella asked.
“Wait for it,” I muttered, looking up a vast black cloud that had formed above the arena.
My captors didn’t want to wait. The show had to go on. I watched a gate form in the wall section across the sand. A white fox came out. At first, I thought it was one of those pony-sized beasts I’d seen with Inari, but I noticed that this one was scrawny, with ragged matted, dirty fur. It came out onto the sand limping on its hind right leg. Its ears looked a little chewed. One eye was missing.
He stopped a dozen feet away to study me, sniffing to take my scent.
I could smell him now. I knew he was male. This was a servant of Inari, but one she’d lost years ago, who’d simply been replaced. She hadn’t cared enough to take on the Hysane to get him back.
White-hot anger filled me. Why do beings with vast power just stop caring about what’s important?
I snapped a glance up and saw that the cloud had condensed into countless shafts of darkness. A black rain of arrows was falling and I had little time. I dropped my gaze and ran at the white fox, unwilling to let him die.
He crouched, poised to spring away from an attack. His stare shot to my sword. The great, honking, meat cleaver of doom I’d forgot I was carrying. I could see from the tension in his body he thought I was attacking him.
Without missing a running step, I drew the sword back inside myself, unmaking it. See, I’m friendly.
I thought the fox would leap aside and come at me from a tangent, but he leaped straight at me, crushing me to the sand. His jaws opened and lunged at my throat. Stopping short, he snapped his teeth at me. Why I was alive, I didn’t know, except that maybe I smelled like a baby fox to him.
I snarled at him. “Get off me, you big lummox, I’m trying to save your life here.”
His head cocked to the side, giving him a quizzical air.
Looking up past his shoulder, I saw we had seconds left. The black arrows were much closer—and none of the Hysane seemed aware of what was coming their way. They were looking at me, cheering with unruly excitement.
For me or the fox? I wondered. Never mind, we’re out of here.
I tugged on the walls of space. A tingle swept through me as gravity lessened. The world went gray toned, except for our auras. Mine was the usual orange haze. The white fox’s was a little yellowier, more like tongues of real flame, though I wasn’t burned.
He rolled off me and spun around, a growl caught in his jaws, but not for me.
I scrambled up in the lighter gravity, my wings putting me at a hover so my toes barely dragged the ground. I felt an electric shock of fear go through me. The fox and I were surrounded. We were in the Hysane ghost world and an army of red-eyed, malevolent spirits was staring at us hungrily.
I hate these frying-pan into-fire scenarios.
THIRTY-FIVE
Summoned to the bleeding sand,
darkness rained into the stands.
And an awful mess was made
of crumbled dragon plans!
—Ballad of the Shadow Fox
Tukka
Another fine mess you’ve got me into, the white fox said.
“Another?” I was confused, and pissed at the accusation. “We just met, and I saved your life.”
As if the ghosts didn’t matter, he stared past them, up into the stands. Yeah, from a threat you created. Damn my missing eye, but you’ve killed a god-awful lot of people.
I followed his stare. There was little movement. Few Hysane seemed to have survived. The crowd was slumped and sprawled, bristling with arrows. The arena sand, what I could see of it past the ghosts, was quilled with arrow shafts as well.
Motherella spoke in the back shadows of my mind, The rock-wyrms had it coming.
“The rock-wyrms had it coming,” I echoed, surprised to feel nothing over the mass execution. Was this Motherella’s influence, or maybe my shadow self was consuming my regrets, replenishing her nothingness after expending so much shadow. Either way, there was no crying over spilled blood.
The ghosts packed in tighter, cutting off our view as those in back came up over their own kind to form a cage.
Thank you so much, the fox pressed closer into me, Always wanted to be gnawed on by thousands of ghosts.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve already rescued us from this.”
The fox shot me an incredulous glance. How do you figure that?
“Wait for it,” I said.
Wait for what? The spirit fox asked.
I couldn’t see them, but I knew the reavers—the gatherers—would be sweeping across the dead bodies, a black wind snatching souls, ripping them off to judgment. Those bleeding souls would spill enough energy to form poor copies, ghosts.
“The fresh ghosts will have to cross over to here. Few of them will have the strength to manifest in daylight. It’s a ghost thing.”
Fox’s eyes widened. More hungry ghosts—coming here—will save us?
“The Hysane ghosts are responsible for killing all these ghosts here. Don’t you think they’ll want revenge? I would.” I spoke for the benefit of the looming ghosts, an indirect way of reasoning with them.
The closing wall hesitated. Spirits churned in confusion, murmuring. The wall reached consensus and exploded away from us. Blazing with spectral-green fire, the ghosts went flapping away, hunting.
Fox and I were left alone. We watched as the old spirits swarmed the new. Ghosts devoured ghosts to build strength, trying to feel the life they’d lost. The Hysane were paying for their crimes a second time.
Damn my mishealed leg, but you were right.
“Had to happen sometime. Well, see you around. I need to find my friends.” I crossed back.
The spirit fox crossed back, following me.
I walked toward a random section of wall, scuffing the sand, each step sinking a little. I enjoyed the silence of death all around.
No crows are picking at the bodies. Maybe this world doesn’t have crows. Actually, I haven’t seen any living thing outside of the earth dragons and their captors. It’s as if the ground hoards life for itself and its children.
Limping, the white fox managed to trot up beside me.
I sighed. I already had an unmanageable entourage. I didn’t need anyone else attaching themselves to me. “Well,” I said, “I suppose you can go home now, wherever that is.”
Inari left me to rot. Faith is broken. I can’t go back to her.
“There’s always the kitsune home-world.”
I’d be a stranger there. A curiosity, too.
“Really, dude, why do I have to find your answers for you? I can’t even stick to the ones I find for me. It’s not something I’m good at.”
You saved me. That makes you responsible for me.
I sighed deeper. “Just what I need, another Ryan.”
Ryan?
“Long story. Hey, do you feel something?” I stopped. The ground shuddered, messing with my balance. “A tremor?”
The spirit of the earth. She’s just realized that a lot of her children are dead. That’s not good.
“If she’d raised them better, they’d still be alive,” I said.
I sort of feel that she will hold you personally responsible, in that you killed them and all.
“How is that even reasonable? They had it coming, I tell you.”
You don’t think I know that?
We’d kicked up our pace to a steady lope, but it was like we were on a treadmill: the wall never got closer, in fact, it was slowly getting away. I studied the nearby sand and noticed it was moving toward the center of the arena behind us. I turning, a trickle of dread going down my spine. There was a whirlpool of sand. Its core was a depression with a whirling hole at the center, a mouth that led down into the earth. The planet was going to swallow us and maybe grind our bones with teeth of rock, or maybe drop us into magma.
“Get behind me!” I told the fox. I pulled shadow and fire together, and my sword jutted out of my hand. Black shadow wrapped in kitsune fire, I willed it to grow extra long. Raising the weapon over my head, I brought it down, stabbing the sand up to the hilt. The blade acted like an anchor, providing drag. I was still sliding, but a lot slower.
The fox had ignored my instructions. He stared at my sword, its shadow-and-fire implications stunning his mind. His jaw hung open. Open extra-wide, his one eye stared. And all-the-while, the distance between us grew.
You’re the shadow fox!
“So what? You’re just going to let the arena eat you?”
He shook off his daze and ran flat out. Pumping all four legs furiously, he closed the distance, passing me, then turning in behind me. The sand pulled him snugly against my back. The maw whirled faster. The outer layers of sand pulled harder on my blade, wanting to drag me in. I wasn’t that close, but I felt fine grains in the wind, scraping across my skin. A thick whirl of wind hung over the whirlpool, made visible by the larger concentration of grit in the center. The sand devil grew, looming high into the sky. A female face formed in the windstorm, her voice the scream of the wind.
I saw movement in the stands. More Hysane had arrived. They were drifting among the dead, faces blank with shock. I guess things like this weren’t ever supposed to happen.
The dragging sand had cracked the surrounding wall, hollowing out a space under the stands. We had a way out if we could get to it, but Fox and I were moving faster now. We were halfway to the center of the whirlpool. I focused and poured more fire and shadow into my blade, adding a dozen feet to its buried length. This slowed us again, buying time as chunks of broken rock floated by.
We could always go back to the ghost realm, fox said.
“By now, the old ghosts will have eaten the new ones, but will still be hungry. They may well have started in on each other. Soon, a super apparition will form—a perfect supernatural storm. Trust me, fighting this is better.”
A caw startled me. I turned to look past fox. There was the Trickster, in raven form. He swooped straight at me, leading the way. Behind him, Fenn and Tukka ran out from under the stands. Moving, the sand acted like an escalator, adding to their speed. The problem would come when they tried to stop.
“We’re here for you, Grace,” Fenn called out.
The raven landed on my shoulder. In clear English, he spoke into my ear, “Now that I’ve been paid for delivering you, I can help you get out of this.”
“I’m doing just fine without you.” I turned my attention back to the screaming sand-face of the whirlwind. “But, uh, what did you have in mind?”
“I’ll just open a gate. We can all go back to Texas.”
I remembered how I’d first gone all shadow in the Native American proto world and had carried Fenn and me across the worlds to Spirit Camp. I could maybe do the same thing now, if my shadow self wasn’t too drained. But then again, I could also accidentally drop someone and lose them forever.
“Okay,” I said, “We’ll go with your plan.”
As if the white sands heard us, the flowing ground started to glow a soft gold. A second, smaller sand devil formed around us, punishing our resistance.
“It’s no good,” Trickster screamed into my ear, trying to be heard over the rising wind scream. “The life force of the planet is distorting my magic. If we go, we’ll be jumping blind.”
A big blur moved past us. Squinting against the flying grit, I barely made out Tukka and Fenn. Tukka was digging in, but the sand was slowing dragging him to its maw. Fenn had climbed on top of Tukka, riding him like a birthday pony. Only there will be no cake and ice cream unless I do something.
I reached inside to my shadow self. I know you’re tired, but can you go again?
The other world gave me great strength. Here, I’m weaker. Too weak. Haven’t rested.
Fine, I thought, in insane situations, insane solutions work the best. Time for plan B.
Seeing his son in danger, the Trickster leaped off my shoulder, dark wings beating furiously. The raven shot over to Fenn’s shoulder, perching, arguing. I wished I was close enough to know what they were fighting about. Fenn flashed golden-amber eyes at me, and then looked back to the raven, shaking his head in a violent no!
I suddenly understood: somehow, the Trickster could get himself and Fenn to safety, but not the rest of us—and Fenn was refusing to abandon me. My heart went soft and gooe
y, melting into my stomach, a pool of bubbling warmth. At that moment I knew Fenn would forever be my friend—if not something more.
My resolve hardened to steel. I’m not letting any of us die!
I shoved away from the fox and my sword. The sword began to unravel, unmaking itself, as I slid in the sand, wrenching the weave of space, crossing over. The sand went gray as did its glow. I barely noticed the tingle coursing through my body or the slacking of gravity. My guess on the ghost situation had proved all too true. There was one ghost present, one huge, towering, amalgamated mess of ectoplasmic mush. Green and violet energies flickered in its translucent bulk, a firestorm that fought against itself for stability. It was no longer human except for a devolved face that was all gaping mouth with a Cyclops’s eye just above. Tentacles writhed in the air, curling, clutching at nothing.
That eye turned toward me, lit from within by flames of madness. The entity rippled on the bottom, slug-like, moving closer with growing speed. I’d just been selected as dessert.
Intangible, flying grit ghosted through me and kept going, no hindrance as I bounced ahead, my moth wings fluttering to give me greater speed. This was like one of those old Japanese samurai movies where two warriors run at each other with lethal intent, except we weren’t raising swords to slash in passing. The monster ghost was happy to plunge several heavy tentacles my way that would have had no difficulty wrapping up Tukka.
I dodged, going high, landing on one of the monster’s limbs. I ran, using the tentacle as a highway, straight toward the creature. I passed Tukka and Fenn. Still sliding in the whirlpool on the human side of the veil, they couldn’t see the risk I was running for all of us. They’d have been appalled. And maybe a little proud of me as well. Me? I only felt the lead weight of fear in my stomach, my mouth having gone dry as arena sand.
Good thing no one expects me to whistle.
Staring through the super ghost, I could barely make out the screaming face of the sand devil. Both were near each other in the center of the arena, yet oblivious of each, separated by the ghost realm’s veil. My plan was simple, just not easy: I intended to cancel two threats by introducing them each other.
Destiny's Child (Kitsune series Book 3) Page 25
