Horseman

by Shayne Silvers

  “Go choke on a tuna can,” I muttered, stomping away.

  I heard a bush rustle a few feet away and I froze.

  Chapter 39

  I peered at the bush suspiciously.

  “You can’t see me…” a voice said in an overly theatrical tone.

  I let out a breath, lowering my hands. “I can see you, Carl. I see your beady little eyes through the branches.”

  He slowly reached out his milky scaled hands and closed the branches I had pointed out. “Now, you can’t see me,” he clarified in the same wizardly voice, as if trying to put a spell on me.

  “Why are you hiding in a bush?” I asked with a sigh. “And please stop trying to spell me.”

  He finally stood, looking annoyed. “Hiding from reporters. Practicing my stealth.”

  “Practice harder,” Talon coughed.

  Carl hissed at him. “Choke on my long bone, smelly cat!” he snarled, drawing one of his longer swords.

  I flung up a hand, ignoring Talon’s outburst of laughter. “No! Carl, stop!”

  He turned to me, frowning. “You just told him to choke on a tuna can. How is my long bone any different?” he asked, sheathing his sword angrily.

  Where to even begin. First, the long bone phrase had to die. “It was an expression, Carl. I didn’t actually mean it. Expressions are just something you do or say by accident in the heat of the moment.”

  Carl considered that, scratching at his chin. “An expression is something you don’t mean. I understand.”

  I studied him, wondering what kind of terrible act he would perform with his recent understanding of the term expression. Thinking of a dozen potentials, I finally let it go. A thought hit me as I watched him slowly sinking back into his bush, never breaking eye contact with me. Then he awkwardly closed the gap in the bush by holding the branches together. “Have you ever heard of a…” remembering Talon was still there, I changed my question slightly, “a Neverwas? Or a Souleater?” I asked the bush.

  The branches whipped back into place and Carl poked his head through the opening. “Yessss…”

  I waited for more, but got nothing. “Know where I can find one?”

  “You already have one,” Carl said, retreating back into the bush. “Your spear has a Devourer.”

  “Yeah, but if I wanted another?” I asked, ignoring Talon’s flinch at Carl’s words.

  “You don’t want another. They are quite dangerous.”

  “I don’t want your opinion, Carl. I want your knowledge.”

  “Are you sure about that, Temple?” he asked in a very chilling tone, and I realized it wasn’t his usual flavor of creepy. This voice was a spider ensnaring a fly in a web. I even felt goosebumps on my forearms. Because the way he had spoken reminded me he wasn’t just my innocent, socially-awkward, lizard friend. Elders were feared worldwide for their mental abilities, and I didn’t quite know the extent of his powers.

  “Okay. I don’t want your knowledge. It was… an expression,” I said, snapping my fingers. “But I do want you to tell me where I can find a Devourer. Or more details on what they are. What they can do. If there are any consequences to using one. Or even how to use one.”

  “That’s a lot…” Carl said after a few moments, still hiding in his bush. I waited patiently. “Can you still see me?” he asked after about ten seconds.

  Talon snarled impatiently, but I held up a hand. “No, we can’t see you,” I lied.

  “Successsss…” he hissed in a dry whisper.

  “What about my questions?”

  He was silent for another five seconds. “I don’t know.”

  “Can I just kill him?” Talon spat, his spear suddenly winking into existence.

  Carl jumped from his bush in a perfect flip, landing on the ground between Talon and I in a crouch, his… long bone pointed at Talon.

  Oh, and the ground around the Elder cracked as if hit by a meteor, making Talon stumble in surprise, before ramming the butt of his spear into the earth to maintain his balance. Dark fog began to rise up from the cracks, and Carl’s Mighty D began to hum in the distance. I spun to see Alex abruptly drop to his knees, clutching his ears, and B suddenly grew larger, wider, and crackled with lightning.

  “Carl! Stop!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, slapping my hands over my own ears.

  The fog instantly died down, and Carl turned to face me, keeping Talon in his sights. I tentatively lowered my hands to find the humming had stopped. I glanced back to see Alex propping himself up, shaking his head – dazed, but alive. B slowly shrunk back to normal size, but hovered very close to Alex as if inspecting him.

  Car alarms blared and wailed from the reporters out front. I turned to Carl, furious and terrified. “What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted, taking a step closer, ready to kill him.

  He cocked his head. “I saw the Eyeless,” he said, pointing. “I never really noticed it before you brought it up. I forget things sometimes,” he admitted.

  I gritted my teeth. “Like knowing Alvara?” I spat.

  He nodded. “Yes. Just like that.”

  I waited. “Well? How do you know Alvara.”

  “It’s not important,” he said. “Not anymore. Ancient history.”

  I gritted my teeth, deciding it wasn’t worth it at the moment. “What about Talon’s Eyeless?” I asked.

  Carl nodded, glancing over at it, cocking his head. “It’s hungry, but so quiet. Like it’s wrapped in a wet blanket, but I can hear it, now.”

  I blinked a few times, glancing over at Talon’s spear. “You can hear it?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  Carl nodded, and Talon looked suddenly very concerned about the spear in his paws.

  “What did you just do? That humming thing,” I clarified, knowing all-too-well that questions needed to be very specific with Carl.

  He glanced back at the massive tree, smiling slightly, although it was hard to tell with Carl. His lizard biology made it look like he was always smirking. “It’s more mature than I thought. I didn’t mean to call out to it. Your mother truly is a Master of the D.”

  I held up a hand, stalling Talon’s growing fury. “What exactly did my mother teach you?” I asked.

  Carl shrugged. “A lost song. One she had forgotten remembering.” He noticed my rapt attention and cocked his head, his ear holes widening. “Would you like to hear it?” he asked.

  I nodded eagerly.

  Carl cleared his throat, and his eyes grew distant as he began to emit a soft hum from deep in his throat, his neck bulging slightly like a frog preparing to croak. Then Carl began lifting his claws, one-by-one. The cracked ground began to rattle, and I noticed ribbons of translucent power slowly beginning to twirl around his black claws, guided by his subtle finger motions like he was orchestrating an underwater ribbon dance.

  Carl’s throat returned to normal, but the humming continued as if picked up by the almost-clear ribbons of power rotating and spinning in slow circles around his claws.

  Then Carl began to sing, his voice a surprisingly clear, chiming pell. The words, although not in a typical or familiar tempo seemed to come to life as if transcending a mere song, and telling a story instead.

  Memory, re-memory… the Song of creation’s chaos.

  Hope and despair, entwined in eternal embrace,

  Like an infinite web of gossamer lace.

  Legends may fall, legends may rise,

  But no matter how tall, the Four shall cry.

  To bring back a soul, to save a child,

  Is to burn all time with the call of the wild…”

  Carl’s haunting melody trailed off, and I felt like I’d just had my legs swept out from under me. I was openly sobbing, my cheeks drenched with tears. Not at the words, but at… I don’t quite know what. The song had ripped at my soul, and I felt a headache abruptly forming.

  I shook my head at the look of concern on Carl’s face. “There is more… Are you saddened I didn’t climax?”

  And despite everything,
I choked out a laugh, unable to speak for a minute. “Crescendo, Carl, not Climax,” I wheezed. “That was… beautiful. My mother taught you that song?” I asked, unable to imagine her singing a song as beautiful and foreboding as that.

  Carl was nodding. “It was hidden in her mind. She let me retrieve it. For you, I think.”

  I blinked a few times. “You… dug that out of my mother’s mind?” I asked nervously.

  He scratched at his chin. “Well, technically, I scraped it off her soul, but—” He suddenly flinched, crouching as he spun to face the tree, his earholes widening and then narrowing abruptly.

  “What’s wrong, Carl?” I asked, ready for an invasion.

  “I think…” he murmured hesitantly. “I just heard my mother…” he cocked his head, listening. “Yes. I need to leave. I must have woken up the Gateway. And I need to speak with my people before they decide to cross over on their own.”

  I blinked rapidly, horrified. “You… the Gatway is open?” I stammered, seeing the million and one ways that could be terrible for life on Earth.

  “Kind of. Maybe not, but open enough for me to go visit.” He turned to me, face desperate and nervous. And I could count on no fingers the number of times I’d seen Carl nervous.

  “When will you return?” I asked.

  “I hope soon, but I do not know.” He began to turn away, and then froze. “Give me your blood so that I may find you quickly upon my return. You’re always running about.” He whipped out a short bone dagger and held it to me, hilt-first.

  I took it without hesitation, and sliced my finger. The bone blade began to… drink my blood.

  I fell, dropping the dagger and closing my eyes as a headache rolled over me, squashing me with visions.

  A giant tree, looking more like the network of roots underground, grasping at the sky.

  A ship. Flying in the sky.

  A strange, savage little boy zipping about in the air chasing a black silhouette of himself.

  Talon batting at a swarm of sprites zipping about his head, playing keepaway with a pod of Fae-nip.

  It faded, and I found myself staring up at Tal, who was carrying me through a dark hallway with purple torches. They looked familiar. I closed my eyes again, feeling a throbbing pressure behind my eyes. “I can’t do it, Peter,” I whispered.

  Tal stiffened, and then began rocking me gently, purring loudly, his chest rumbling against my shoulder, lulling me to sleep. “You can do anything, Wylde. Anything… All you have to do is try. Never quit never quitting,” he whispered. “Cheat like a bastard to win like a king…”

  I think I smiled weakly, nodding. “Okay…” I whispered back.

  And then Tal began to hum my favorite song, the one my mother had used to sing me to sleep for as long as I could remember.

  Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight…

  Chapter 40

  I woke in darkness to the sound of a crackling fire and harsh cawing sounds. I looked up to find a field of glittering stars overhead, so I must be outside. There was no wind to speak of, just the scent of old leather, dust, a faint metallic smell, and fresh water.

  “He’s not taking it well, is he,” a familiar voice croaked from out of sight.

  “It’s breaking him,” another similar sounding voice cawed.

  “If I can take it, so can he,” Tal growled, sounding on the verge of violence against the two croaking voices.

  “And he asked about the Neverwas?” the first voice said, followed by another caw and a rustle of feathers. I knew those voices, but couldn’t quite place them, grogginess clouding my mind.

  “He did,” Tal answered. “We must find a blue one. He seemed sure of it.”

  “No one would hand another Souleater over to him. Temple is too unpredictable,” the first voice crowed.

  “Has he asked the Hatter? He may know,” the second voice said.

  Tal sighed. “Then that is where I will go. Carl left,” he added in a concerned tone.

  “The Elder was dangerous,” the two voices agreed in unison.

  “Carl,” Tal corrected, enunciating the name proudly, “is dangerously loyal. And he found a Song—”

  I shifted, trying to sit up, but wasn’t successful, and the motion alerted the others, ending the conversation. I had a mild headache, but when I tried to remember what had happened, the throbbing intensified.

  “Wylde?” Tal asked softly. I mumbled something vaguely affirmative, and Tal was suddenly leaning over me, looking concerned. “How do you feel?”

  I coughed, and Tal slowly lifted a glass to my lips. I took a hesitant sip of the water, and then began to guzzle it, coughing and choking as much as I swallowed. I felt dehydrated. How long had I been asleep, and… why had I been sleeping?

  “You had a flashback,” Tal said, setting the cup down beside me with a thud. And that’s when I realized I wasn’t sleeping on a bed, but a hard surface. I glanced down to see I was on a wooden floor, not outside. I tried sitting back up, and Tal helped, supporting my weight, murmuring a soft song under his breath. “Star light, star bright…”

  Hearing that song combined with the sudden change in position sent my blood rushing from my head, and the world tilted woozily until I closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths. That song… made me feel like I had woken up all over again – emerging from a dream. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes.

  I was in the Sanctorum, not outside. The stars above had been the gems in the ceiling. I was lying on the Round Table, recovering from an apparent flashback. And the other voices… I swiveled my head angrily, suddenly realizing who they had belonged to. I spotted Hugin and Munin perched on the back of a couch, regarding me silently. They were massive ravens, each the size of a small dog, with feathers as black as night.

  “Glad to see you guys again,” I muttered, but my sarcasm was lost as I fell into a coughing fit. Talon – not Tal – lifted the cup for me again, helping me take a few more drinks until I felt somewhat human. “Where have you been?” I demanded, glaring at Odin’s Ravens.

  They shared a look with each other, and then nodded, as if corroborating an alibi. “Scouting.”

  Talon murmured gently. “It’s their job. To give Odin information on the world.”

  “We had a lot of catching up to do since we’ve been spending so much time with you,” Hugin – I think – said. I’d never really pinned down the art of telling them apart. “Lots to see in Kansas City, St. Louis, Boston.”

  “Took a while,” Munin added. I noticed a faint mark on his beak, a small gouge, but I couldn’t tell if the other raven had a matching beauty mark. And it didn’t really fucking matter, to be honest.

  “Why did I have another flashback?” I asked Talon.

  He shrugged. “I think it was Carl’s Song.”

  “You probably shouldn’t have let him do that,” one of the Ravens muttered before I could press Talon on the issue, because he had seemed to emphasize the word when telling Hugin and Munin about it, as if song was more like Song, nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

  “Generally speaking, Elder Songs are fatal,” the other agreed, preening his feathers with a razor-sharp beak.

  Talon shot them a dark look. “He was reciting a song he learned from Makayla Temple, and I don’t think it was just a song. I think it was something much older…” Talon shot me a nervous look. “Just a feeling.”

  I nodded slowly, recalling my dream with Callie, and that parasite’s infatuation with Songs, making it sound like a power he wielded. Had that parasite been an Elder? I shivered at the thought, suddenly glad Carl had left.

  “I think you’re right. Carl’s Song was different. Some kind of prophecy? He said he scraped it from my mother’s soul…” Hugin and Munin both stiffened as if I’d asked them to go duck hunting. “What does that mean? And why did it help grow the Elder Portal?” I asked, latching onto their reaction as I felt my strength slowly returning, enough to prop myself up without Talon’s support.

  The Ravens shar
ed a long, meaningful look. “We… um, probably should have been around to witness something like that.”

  I grunted. “Why are you three suddenly buddies?” I asked suspiciously.

  Talon’s ears wilted back as if I had scolded him. “You asked Alex about blue stones. Then asked Carl about a Neverwas. A Souleater…” He averted his eyes, shuddering faintly. “A… Devourer. I didn’t know who else to ask, so I called out to them,” he lifted a paw slightly, pointing at the Ravens.

  Hearing the name Devourer had struck him, and with me unconscious… I didn’t know if this was the full story, or if their relationship possibly stretched back longer, if maybe they had been friends all along, putting on a show for our benefit. I’d get to the bottom of it later, but right now I needed answers. “Anubis told me I needed another one to defeat Mordred.”

  “That’s not all he said, Temple,” a new voice growled from a few feet away. The ravens launched up into the air, cawing and cursing.

  “Oh, shit!”

  “Black damn!”

  I slowly turned to find Odin seated in a chair before the Round Table, leaning back as if it were his throne. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t rolled over in my sleep – into the band of flowing liquid metal circling the table like an infinite stream. I also hadn’t noticed my satchel on the table, but wasn’t pleased to find that it was closer to Odin than me. He leaned forward casually, and calmly reached a scarred hand inside it. I snorted indelicately, not concerned about him finding anything since—

  He pulled out the War Hammer and I froze. “How…” I whispered.

  “You’re not the first one to use a magic purse, Mary Poppins. And I have a thing for hammers…”

  I slowly swung my legs off the edge of the table, taking a breath to make sure I wasn’t about to collapse. Once confident I wasn’t about to make an ass out of myself in front of Odin, I dropped my feet to the floor, still gripping onto the edge just in case.

  I turned back to the Norse Big G, considering him thoughtfully. Odin was associated with wisdom, death, royalty, knowledge, battle, sorcery, frenzy, and a host of other things. But what had suddenly struck me was that several of those areas of expertise overlapped – or interfered – with a few recent associates of mine.