by Jake Stone
They turn to me when they realize what’s happened.
“Xander?” Atia asks.
I swing my blade at the monstrous statues that trap them against the wall, breaking them apart and freeing them quickly. I help them through, embracing each one.
“I thought that the witch had ensnared you,” Petronelous says.
“She did,” I say, ashamed. “But I broke through it.”
“Good,” Chun Hei signs.
I look to Zorel, expecting to find a smile on her face. But she’s overcome by despair, gazing soundlessly at her fingers which still lack any spark.
“Zorel,” I say, then again more forcefully. “Zorel!”
Her head lifts, and I see the bewildered look of someone who’s completely lost.
“Your power …” I begin. “It’s still not back?”
She shakes her head slowly.
Damnit! The witch has stolen it from her. How could I have let this happen? I should’ve been smarter. I should’ve been more observant. I was too blinded by her beauty, and because of it, I let my friends down.
Beneath us, the ground begins to shake. It’s subtle at first, a minor shifting of the tectonic plates. But after a while, it comes back, and we’re suddenly in the middle of an earthquake.
“What’s happening?” Chun Hei signs.
“It’s the mountain,” I say, glancing up at the ceiling. “It’s breaking.”
Chapter Thirty
Within the mountain’s dense walls, an ancient spirit grumbles at the death of its mistress, vowing to destroy us before we can escape.
I hurry to lift Atia to her feet. She’s still struggling, clutching the wound that bleeds from her chest. She lets out a grimace but stands despite the pain.
“We have to go,” she says.
“You think?” I ask.
Behind me, Chun Hei kneels next to Zorel, trying to shake the elemental from her daze. She’s lost in her own despair, not weeping, but quiet, eyes blank, like a sedated mental patient in a hospital.
“Zorel!” I scream.
She looks up at me, her awareness slowly returning as she begins to notice the shaking floor and collapsing ceiling. Even then it takes all of Chun Hei’s strength to lift her to her feet.
“We have to head back into the tunnels,” I say. “It’s our only chance.”
“We don’t even know where it’ll take us,” Petronelous says.
“Tora said that we were close to the end,” I say. “It can’t be far off.”
“And you believe that?” Petronelous asks. “It was probably just another lie she used to tease us with our freedom.”
“And what other choice do we have?” I ask.
“He’s right,” Atia manages. “We have to continue with the tunnels. It’s our only chance.”
At that moment, we hear the frightening sound of cracking rock, and I see the ceiling begin to fall apart. Stalactites, long and sharp, drop from the ceiling with alarming speed, plunging the ground and shattering into thick pieces. One of the larger ones breaks over our heads and races to smash us to dust.
“Move!” I scream, shifting the women to the side, able to dodge its attack.
The surrounding air darkens as dust rises from the ground and it takes me a moment to find my friends who are slowly lifting around me.
“That was a close one,” Atia manages, her hand tight on her wound.
“Agreed,” I say, helping her up and passing her off to Petronelous. “Now let’s go!”
We rush toward the exit of the cavern, hurrying into the new tunnel that we hope will lead us to our safety. The floor is shaking, hampering our feet with missteps. But the noise is worse. It roars at us with undying fury, threatening us with guttural sounds of breaking rock and shifting plates, like a furious giant grinding its teeth.
“Hurry!” Petronelous screams. “It’s shutting!”
I glance over my shoulder at the tunnel behind us and see that it’s collapsing. Dust billows up from the ground, surrounding us in even more darkness. The sudden lack of light activates our helmets, and I’m instantly staring through the infrared vision of my visor. Even then it struggles. For, although Tora is dead now, the remnants of her spirit still lives on through the mountain, and she hails us with whatever evil magic she still has left to entomb us here forever.
“Keep moving!” I scream.
We press on, but still, it’s too dark. I can’t see. Neither can the women. We stumble, bump into each other, clumsy in our desperation, panicked in our fear. The walls of the tunnel open up as we’re led into a wider space, some fork in the road, and we’re left lost and blind.
I’m bumped from the side, nearly knocked over, as the girls catch up.
“Which way do we go?” Petronelous asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply in desperation.
I stumble forward, trying to keep going. But I quickly trip, falling over some large rock that juts out from the ground. Falling to my knees, I listen to the confusion of the women behind me, faced with the heartbreaking probability that we’re going to die here.
Fuck! How can this be happening? Why now? Why when we’re so close to the end?
It’s then, as I feel the vibration of my magnetic holster that I realize my blade is moving. What the ….
“The blade!” Atia says. “Take it.”
Drawing my sword, I see the bright light that had so gloriously revealed itself earlier in the cavern suddenly reappear.
Its shine is glorious and unceasing, driving back the unnatural darkness that has sought to drown us in this confusing veil. Dust falls away, curling into the cavernous walls, where it recedes, cowering before the virtuous glow of the corfew.
“I can see again,” I say, almost laughing.
I glance back at the women, who cast me with impatient smiles.
“Where to now?” Petronelous asks.
I look back at the cavern and see that there are two entrances—one leading left, the other leading right. I sigh in exasperation. Can’t this ever be easy?
Shutting my eyes, I retrace our steps, taking into account the days of trekking, the miles of tunnels, the seemingly endless twists and turns that had left us directionless and confused. And at that moment, I realize—I have no fucking clue which way to go.
“This way,” I finally say, pointing to the tunnel on the right.
“Are you sure?” Chun Hei signs.
“Not really.”
“Good enough,” Atia manages.
“Let’s go!” I say, leading the way.
Once inside, the tunnel narrows and our steps are slowed by the tapered path at our feet. But still, we keep moving. Any slight pause and we’ll be crushed by the tons of rock that are crashing behind us. I wince as a piece of stalactite shatters against the back of my helmet.
Ouch!
Up ahead, about thirty yards before us, the path appears to die, and for a moment I fear that it’s a dead end, but as I get closer, I realize that it’s just a slant, a curve in the path that leads up a vertical tunnel, like the shaft of a well where at the top, I can see the glimmer of sunlight.
“It’s here!” I say. “We’ve found it!”
“Leave me,” Atia suddenly orders. She pulls away from Petronelous and leans against the wall, accepting her fate like the good captain she is. “I’m too heavy. Go.”
“Are you crazy?” I ask. “We’re almost out of this.”
“You won’t make it with me,” she says. “Don’t worry, though. This will be an honorable death. More than I can ask for.”
I glance at Petronelous, who turns to me as well. Her arm is hanging languidly from where one of the lava creatures hit her in the shoulder. She can barely lift her arm now.
“How bad’s the shoulder?” I ask her.
“It’ll hold,” she says sternly.
“Good,” I say. “Get her ass up and let’s get moving.”
Atia scowls as she’s lifted to her feet, regarding me coldly. “Damn you, Xander Cr
oss.”
We climb the shaft quickly, each of us digging our feet into the crevices of the walls, using our hands to clutch the tiny cliffs of rock that help us lift ourselves up toward the light.
Atia holds onto my waist as she supports herself on Petronelous’s shoulders, her grip growing weaker by the second. She’s losing blood, and the exercise isn’t helping her.
Every inch we gain is contested by the mountain. It’s walls shake. It’s floors trembles. It breaks the rock around us, trying harder and harder to block our escape, to keep us from escaping its clutch. But we keep moving.
We will not die here. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through.
As we reach the top of the shaft, the mountain gives a final, terrible shake, its force great enough to break the rocks around us. I lose my grip as do the women.
Reaching out, I clutch onto the edge of the hole, desperate to hold on, even as I feel the weight of my friends yanking me down.
No, I think to myself. Not now. Not when we're so close.
At that moment, I see Tora’s face again, her lips spreading into a smug grin that twists at my heart. She laughs at me—at us—for trying to defy our fate, for trying to overcome her power. And I fear at that moment that our efforts all this time have been futile.
The rocky ledge begins to give out beneath my grip when suddenly, I feel a hand catching me by the wrist. Large and strong, it yanks me up, its power significant enough to lift the others as well.
I crawl over the side of the opening onto the snow-covered surface of the mountain where I find Teema standing proudly before me.
Her helmet recoils into her armor, and I see a face blotched red from the freezing wind. “I told you,” she roars out in victory as if I’d just lost a bet to her. “Wherever you are—”
I don’t give her a chance to finish. I jump to my feet and wrap my arms around her, giving her the biggest hug ever.
She shoves me away, disgusted, and looks at me in confusion. “Why the hell did you do that for?”
“Cause you’re the best,” I say. “No how’d you find us?”
“It was the strangest thing,” she says. One moment, none of our tracking signals or communication devices were working. The next, they all came on-line. The damndest thing.”
Tora, I realize. The witch was dead and with her the dark magic that had been plaguing this planet for centuries.
“I could fucking kiss you,” I scream over the howl of the wind.
“You do, and I’ll fucking leave you here,” she roars back. “Besides, I already told you, you’re not pretty enough.”
We laugh as we press on, racing toward her jet that’s sitting only yards away at the edge of the cliff. Behind us, the mountain finally starts to give way, collapsing under the weight of itself, like a house of cards being hit by a strong gust. Peaks and valleys, begin to break apart, crumbling at the heels of our feet.
“Hurry!” Petronelous screams.
When we reach the ship, we leap into the back compartment, where we quickly strap Atia into one of the seats. She’s barely awake, her face pale from blood loss. She mumbles something to me as I lock in her safety harness, then passes out when Chun Hei leans over to check her wound.
I brush the hair away from her face. “Don’t worry, we’re almost out of here.”
Petronelous, Chun Hei and Zorel strap in as I jump into the cockpit with Teema, who’s already shutting the ramp behind us and activating the jet’s thrusters.
“Okay, Teema,” I say. “Show me what this baby can do.”
“With pleasure,” she says.
She pulls the throttle, her face beaming with pride. But just as I expect to be thrust back against my seat from the velocity, I’m treated with the sluggish sound of a failing engine.
“You didn’t get it serviced, did you?” I ask.
She looks at me, frightened like a child who’s just spilled her milk on her mom’s finest cloth. “Those Republic soldiers were just too good in bed.”
“Fuck!” I punch the dashboard of the jet, and, amazingly, the engine comes back on.
“What’d you do?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Just get us the fuck out of here!”
I fall back against my seat as the jet’s propulsion system kicks in and we’re instantly lifted into the air, free from the rumble of the mountain’s demise.
I stare back, watching through the dart’s window, as the mountain finally erupts. Black soot and smoke and volcanic fluid billow up into an explosion from hell, almost reaching us like one final grasp, and in that last second, I swear I can see Tora’s twisted face screaming at me in revenge.
Chapter Thirty-One
Alone, I walk.
Word of our success has spread amidst the camp, and I, along with my fist-unit, have been summoned by the War Council to be debriefed of our mission.
Sadly, I alone have answered the call.
My friends are still wounded from their battle with Bantha, each of them faced with their own problems. Atia, strong and stoic yet still hurt, remains in the infirmary, healing with the aid of prayers and nanites. Petronelous, that fearless warrior whom without her strength we never would’ve survived the last tunnel, is being observed by the genetic scientists as they struggle to determine the cause of her overheating. Chun Hei, however, has been missing since we landed, tasked with the job of securing the data scrolls we were able to find.
And then there’s Zorel ….
My heart swells with pain as I think of the elemental, remembering how sad she looked moments before I left her in the infirmary. Like a frightened child, she was curled up in her bed, clutching at the thick blanket that one of the monks had given to her, gazing blankly into the corner.
Is this to be her fate? A powerless invalid forced to learn a new way of life? Damn Tora. Damn Tora to hell for all of her petty bitterness.
I glance up at the wisp of clouds spreading above me and see a glorious sun burning behind them. Centuries, they say, centuries of bitter winter since Korath has seen its rays. Now, the star shines gloriously. There are no frigid winds to assail us with shiver, nor any thick snow to blanket the ground, only a weak light that hints at the burgeoning spring.
“Ha, there’s my boy,” Chopra says as he greets me outside the War Council’s tent. His breath holds the reek of cranish, and his beard is as matted as ever. But, for the most part, he appears to be sober. “Thought you’d be rolling around with a bevy of gorgeous women right about now, unable to breathe from all the tits in your face. I’m glad you made it, though.”
“So am I,” I say.
The battle father glances over my shoulder, confused when he sees that I’m alone. “And the women?” he asks.
“Wounded,” I reply.
He grants me a solemn nod. “We all heal in our own ways. Come. The bloodsuckers are waiting for us.”
“Great,” I say. “I can’t wait to see them.”
“Remember,” he says. “If one of the women grabs your cock, don’t panic, merely point them in my direction, and I’ll take care of it.”
“And if it’s a man?”
He rests a hand on my shoulder and sighs. “May the corfew protect you, my son.”
The War Council’s tent stands gloriously amidst the dying snow, its dark grey cloth now appearing much brighter in the afternoon sun than it did just a few days before.
Outside, the same Republic guards who’d kept watch over me the first time I was arrested for my disobedience watch me as I approach. They straighten as they see us, honoring us with the fists of honor.
“My lords,” Dalip says, his gaze straight.
As I walk by, I notice the female guard who’d stood up for me against the others and offer her a smile.
She blushes.
“Don’t know how you do it,” Chopra says.
“It’s a gift,” I say.
He grumbles in annoyance.
Inside, I find General Alvarium entertaining a cadre
of guests—senators of the Republic, military personnel, high ranking clerics who look longingly at the female soldiers serving them in tight uniformed pants. They drink cranish from crystal glasses, laughing as they celebrate the general’s success.
“Ah!” Alvarium says, cutting through the crowd to reach us. Dressed as regal as ever, his brows are freshly manicured, and his long, lush curls are brushed back into a tail that spills stylishly into the hood of his wolf cloak.
He’s the spitting image of royalty. But nowhere on his Republic uniform or shiny boots or gold cufflinks is the sign of battle. His clothes, just like his porcelain complexion, are pristine, making him look like an aristocratic figurehead as opposed to a military leader.
“Here,” he says, snatching two glasses of cranish from a soldier carrying a serving dish. “For you.”
We each take a glass, Chopra tossing back his, while I, not in the mood, hand mine to him to finish. He does so promptly.
“If you would allow me the honor of introducing you to my friends,” Alvarium says, ushering me forward and presenting me to a line of men and women I’ve never met before.
The dignitaries regard me shrewdly, studying me with suspicious eyes, even as they offer me their jeweled hands to shake. But Alvarium breaks the ice. He livens the moment with his charm, adding a bit of history as he introduces each of them to us. Ridiculous anecdotes. Lines of flattery. The gilded weapons hit their marks, and within seconds these men and women who were so cold only seconds before are eating out of his hand, laughing at his bravado. He’s a master at this, I realize, a manipulator at the highest level, and I can only marvel at how well he plays the room.
Only our Primus Battorous Cytax of Galantean, a man who prefers to slice throats rather than exchange pleasantries with politicians remains untouched. He wards back the lively crowd with a deep frown, unwilling to join in any of their pleasantries.
“Fine job, young man,” says Elzerath, the overweight senator who had so quickly dismissed me the first time I’d met him. He takes my hand and shakes it firmly, posing for one of his assistants who quickly shoots a holopic of us. Refusing to release my hand, he leans in and whispers, “It’s very important to have friends, young man, benefactors who can provide you with the finer things in life. Advancement. Money. Women.” He grins. “I can provide you with all this.”
