Wolves of the Tesseract Collection

by Christopher D Schmitz

  They kept their heads down and hurried toward their destination. After crossing a street they walked into an alley that suddenly quieted and grew uncannily empty. Doors affixed to the pocked concrete walls shut and sliding, corrugated doors amid the exteriors marred with blistering paint bubbles clicked as they locked.

  Zabe growled as the hair on his neck prickled even in his human form. His eyes shifted to the skyline and the windows of the two-story urban canyon; it made a perfect trap. A derelict husk of a Google Maps camera car lay burned out ahead where it had finally succumbed to the wounds earned in the rough neighborhood.

  Skootching towards the edge of a building Jenner whispered, “I don’t like this.”

  Zabe goose stepped three more paces and sniffed the air. He nodded towards the graffiti on the crumbling stucco; an immense seven-pointed star dribbled stray drippings from the peaks. "When it starts, you all sprint for our waypoint and find the others."

  Yardi eyed him hesitantly. “You’ll be fine on your own?”

  Claire looked at her fiancé and grinned with pride. The others didn’t know him as well as she did—they only knew his reputation.

  “I’ll be fine. Get ready.” He peeled the burlap wrapping from his massive sword and gripped the handle. “Go now!” Zabe snarled as his body stretched and sprouted fur just as the doors on either side of the street crashed open. Heptobscurantum cultists poured from the buildings.

  Claire and the rest of the crew sprinted down the alleyway as the lycan roared and swung his blade against the crowd of cultists. The tip of the arcane weapon barely grazed his enemies, but that was enough to freeze a swath of them in living stone.

  Sounds of the scuffle echoed down the corridor. Screams of man and the howls of beast scared off any interlopers or looky-loos. Gunshots erupted, but Claire and her teammates had nearly cleared the area. She looked back only briefly before rounding the corner and spotted Zabe ripping the hood off the automated mapping car to use as a shield against the gunmen.

  Her heart leapt slightly when she spotted a man on the roof propping a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher over the top ledge of the building to target her love. Claire wanted to shout to Zabe to warn him of the powerful sneak attack about to hit him—he was preoccupied with a new wave of attackers popping up behind the line of newly formed stone statues.

  She paused and considered turning back but caught sight of another gunman on the opposite rooftop. The midday sunlight glinted off the lens of his scope as he aimed a sniper rifle at her and the trio of escapees rounding the bend in the alleyway.

  “Go!” Claire pushed the others ahead and jumped around the corner just in time to avoid a trio of bullets that tore up the corner of the building that shielded her from harm. A moment later she felt the rumbling before she heard the explosion’s noise tumbling down the alley.

  She bit her lip and refused to give her emotions creative license. They would otherwise craft some unlikely scenario where Zabe lay dismembered and bleeding in the streets. Claire forced her heart to have more faith in him than her imagination did.

  Zabe had to still be alive. She refused to entertain any other assumption as she led the way to their next destination.

  Chapter 13

  Wulftone pointed the heat blaster at the giant heap of ice blocking the entry. As soon as the beam penetrated halfway and they began widening the hole, the tarkhūn frostlord would refreeze everything and undo all their work.

  The invading force huddled near the massive stone frame of the ancient door. Given the proximity to the heat beam, it was the warmest place and they shared their corporate misery in clustered crowds.

  Through chattering teeth, Wulftone muttered under his breath. He worried that they would not have enough battery power to melt the glacial barrier at the portal location if they did not see a breakthrough soon. As the laser's bore neared the midpoint Harken tapped him on the shoulder.

  “I got this,” he said cockily. Harken activated the wireless sensors on a cluster of remote detonators. “Just say when.”

  “Now!” Wulftone flipped off the laser as Harken chucked the fist-sized wad of explosives down the ice-bored pipe. A second later everything had frozen over again.

  Harken wiped away the white effluence on the edge of the frigid block. It had frozen so thick and hard that they could not see more than a few inches through the mass before the murky density obscured all vision. “I can’t see it, so it must be in there pretty deep.”

  “Perfect,” Wulftone said. “That means they probably don’t know it’s in there either.” He ducked around the corner of the temple to get clear of the blast radius. He barked commands to the two large groups lined up against either side of the temple’s exterior. “Everyone get ready!”

  Harken leaned against the ancient wall right next to Jackie. She smiled approvingly at his plan, glad to finally have the opportunity to get out of the frigid air—even if it meant running into gunfire. Harken winked at her and handed her the detonator.

  Her smile spread ear to ear. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Go ahead and do the honors.”

  She giggled with excitement—a laugh almost disturbingly macabre, bordering on menacing cackle. Gita grinned behind her. She glanced at the other side of the blast zone and spotted Wulftone and Sam Jones whose eyes yearned for her to press the button and let them save Shandra.

  Her finger hovered over the wireless ignitor and thought about her friends who weren’t there. She sent up a brief prayer on behalf of Claire and Zabe… Jenner too, although he always struck her as a little sketchy, like he might snap under pressure if it meant avenging his family.

  Jackie yelled, “Fire in the hole!” and mashed the trigger. The structure rumbled and shook with the blast; a horizontal pillar of fire propelled giant ice chunks out of the doorway where they landed halfway down the slope—they presumed it shot the other way too, frying many of their enemies who’d blockaded themselves within the Antarctic stronghold.

  ***

  Claire tapped her foot nervously as she hugged her arms to her body despite the sticky heat. She refused to worry… at least she tried to tell herself that. Deep down she was terrified.

  Jenner, Yardi, and Spireth hovered nearby to help offset her nerves as Claire spoke with a tour guide to arrange for aquatic transport. The other two strike teams casually trickled towards the waypoint destination and gradually converged with them.

  Claire counted heads as she spoke with the ferryman in her halting, seldom-used Spanish. She turned to the new arrivals and shot them an inquisitive look; only nine of the ten others had arrived.

  Chira, one of the other team leaders under Zabe’s command hung his head slightly lower than normal. “We lost one,” he said sorrowfully. “Earth’s Sh’logath cult—the Heptobscurantum—came at us out of nowhere. They knew we were coming.”

  Claire nodded to Chira with a frown. She looked around and prayed, hopeful for a glimpse of Zabe’s return.

  She turned back to Jose and continued haggling over the price. Dirt and sweat stained his brow and clothes. His river skiff could barely hold the travelers from the Prime; it floated nearby, tethered by a fraying cord. Neither boat nor ferryman was anything special—and that’s the sort of anonymity they needed. With the well-connected cultists hunting them, stealth was at a premium.

  Claire was sure that Jose needed the funds from any charters. She couldn’t tell if he just enjoyed arguing over prices or if something else was at work. Her guts churned inside as her mind replayed the sound of the recent rocket blast over and over. Finally, she slapped down a metal tile the size of a compact disc’s jewel case.

  Jose’s eyes widened as he recognized the element: pure gold. The ingot was worth more than he might make in a lifetime working the river.

  Claire locked eyes with him. “You know what this is and how much it’s worth? Stop playing games with me and take us to the island.”

  Jose’s eyes shifted nervously bac
k and forth. He stammered, “I… I am sorry—but if I take you there, men from Las Siete Muertes will find me and kill my children. They came up and down the river these last two weeks and warned everybody that the island is off limits for the next month.”

  Claire scowled and turned to ponder the next course of action, understanding that the Las Siete Muertes was the local name for the Heptobscurantum. She hated to force the man if it jeopardized his family, but if it meant the difference between awakening Sh’logath she knew she must do it.

  Jose noticed that she didn’t react to the name. “You don’t know the Las Siete Muertes?”

  Claire shrugged.

  “They are at war with the city—and have spies everywhere. Everyone knows they kidnapped those nuns and destroyed the convent.” He made a brief sign of the cross at the mention of the tragedy. “It’s been all over the news.’

  “I…uh, haven’t listened to the news in a while,” she said.

  “The police want nothing as badly as they want to destroy this cult—but they’ve also infiltrated even that office. We thought things were bad when the cartels ruled the city. Las Siete Muertes makes them look like altar boys.” He shook his head and clammed up for fear that someone might have overheard him.

  Claire knew she couldn’t give him a death sentence by forcing him to help. She scowled and turned to leave in search of other options.

  “However,” Jose called her back as he furiously scribbled on a piece of paper, “I could sell you the boat as long as you know where you are going?”

  She nodded and took the bill of sale to sign. Jose walked past her and pulled a large knife from his belt; he used the blade to pry off the name plaque and scrape away any other identifiers that he could readily find.

  Taking the slip back from Claire, Jose said very gravely, “Whatever motivates you to visit that haunted place, especially while Las Siete Muertes has forbidden it is beyond me. Just make sure that no one ever finds this boat when you are done with it.”

  Claire nodded and looked up to find Zabe limping towards them in his human form. He carried the Stone Glaive wrapped in his bloody and tattered cloak. A huge section of his Guardian Corps’ armor had been blasted away over the torso and the pieces covering his midsection had been ripped and charred by fire.

  Zabe wore a pained grin as he walked forward with a brave face. He whistled through the agony as Claire rushed forward to hug him and then pulled away when he winced at her touch.

  Jose watched with bewilderment. He wordlessly worked his mouth for a few moments but had nothing to say—he could only stare at the tortured, bloody man who joined their crew. His eyes fixed on the gaping, bleeding wound over the lowest part of the man’s ribcage as it slowly stopped leaking and began to stitch itself back together.

  “I’ll be just fine in another few minutes,” Zabe grunted. His eyes did a brief headcount. “We lost one,” he noted solemnly.

  “I’m thankful it was only one,” Claire injected with levity.

  Jose looked at them apprehensively and then tossed the boat keys to Claire. He turned and then hurried away with all due speed and a commitment to forget everything that he’d just seen.

  ***

  Gita screamed as she poured an entire battery’s worth of firepower down the hallway. Blood from a fallen comrade splattered her face and return fire zipped over her head. It puckered the stone walls as she charged to the next pillar in the tall passageway.

  Jackie dove beneath a swath of enemy disruptor blasts and skidded to a halt near Gita’s feet—just in time to pepper a sneaky vyrm soldier who had gotten into flanking position on her friend’s blind side. Grenade blasts rattled the walls and shook ice crystals from the ceiling. They floated serenely towards the battle below, oblivious to the chaos.

  They cleared the corridor inch by inch, stepping over the bodies of fallen friends and of vyrm—so many vyrm. The maniac worshippers of Sh’logath gladly threw away their lives in pursuit of their nihilistic beliefs.

  Jackie glanced back at Sam Jones who brought up the rear. His face had been fraught with worry over Shandra. Jackie glanced to Harken and to Wulftone who worked well together, protecting each other’s’ flanks and tearing through the enemy lines as they worked in tandem. She knew that humans were no different than the enemy: they threw away their lives for causes that they believed in just as the vyrm did. Usually, those causes are people, she mused as she pulled the trigger and then swapped out a chirping, depleted power cell for a fresh one.

  Sam ducked his head down and scurried over to Jackie. “I think I know the layout of this temple. At least, I believe I can guess at it. I’ve been inside pyramids that have such similar designs all around the world that their similarities cannot be mere coincidence. I think I can sneak us around the enemy.”

  Jackie noticed the helpless look on his face. She had been the same as him only a few years prior: always at the mercy and whim of stronger forces, helpless and powerless to reckon with the world until she’d discovered her own strengths and taken training with soldiers of the Prime. She waived Wulftone and Harken over. It wasn’t her call to make.

  Bursts of return fire popped only infrequently as the soldiers secured the larger room and its connected hallways making it safe enough to assess the situation. The two officers met up with them.

  “Sam thinks he knows his way around here,” Jackie reported.

  Harken raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got scouts that should report back in at any second.”

  “There will be five tunnels branching off of the next main room,” Sam told him. It would’ve come off matter-of-factly had there not been so much urgency in his voice. “They each go off in different directions, but the middle tunnel will lead the deepest into the heart of the pyramid and will terminate in a kind of priestly, ceremonial room with an altar. That is the most likely location for any sacrifice they would make.”

  A breathless scout sprinted to their location just as Sam finished speaking. “Big room up ahead,” he spat. “It splits off five ways. Each tunnel is crawling with enemies.”

  “Oh good,” Wulftone said with relief. The others looked at him incredulously. He explained, “They wouldn’t be here defending anything if they’d already resurrected Akko Thakkanon.”

  “There is a secret tunnel!” Sam blurted. “Many pyramids have them and we should be able to use it to get to the bottom—it’s like a human-sized laundry chute running down at a forty-five degree angle.”

  “How many men can we get through at once?” Harken asked the tactical questions first.

  “It won’t be big. One person at a time at most I should suspect.”

  Wulftone gave the order for all forces to assault the central tunnel, knowing that the enemy would defend it to the last in order to hold to their dark agenda. “Lead the way. That diversion will only buy as a little time—if we don’t act fast enough they will speed up their sacrifice in response.”

  Sam nodded and ran half-way back to the entrance with Harken, Wulftone, Jackie, and Gita in tow. “I’m sure I spotted the access on the way in.” He pointed to a stone block at the wall barely larger than a square meter in size. It appeared indistinguishable to the others.

  “I don’t get it,” Harken said. “Where is the door?”

  Sam pointed again. “You can tell by the way the texture changes.”

  “I can see it,” Wulftone growled. His heightened eyesight helped him identify it.

  The others shrugged and Wulftone pounded on the panel. It’s thin, stucco veneer shattered and broke free from the cedar panel as the werewolf ripped it out. He immediately crawled down the hole. Sam dove in excitedly and followed.

  Slicked with frost, they slipped and squished into each other as his or her grip gave away momentarily and they made all due haste down the steep chute while trying to remain as quiet as possible. Only Wulftone’s powerful grip remained true and he kept the clandestine crew from sliding all the way to the bottom.


  Hand over hand they worked even as they heard the sounds of the battle vibrating through the stones above them. With blood pounding in their ears the intruders tried to silence their breathing—and then they came to a hard stop.

  “The tunnel ends,” Wulftone whispered.

  “Lemme see,” Sam said. He and Wulftone skootched around some so that Sam could get a look at the wooden panel. He scratched the wooden plank and sniffed. “Cedar. It’s probably the exact same construction as the topside door.”

  Sam fished out his pocket knife and extended the corkscrew. Quickly and methodically he bored a peephole through the thin wood and the porous stone before pressing is face against the spy hole.

  “I see her!” he said excitedly. “They have her tied to the altar. He’s got a knife—they’re going to sacrifice her!”

  The tentacles of the abyssal auraphage snapped to attention and looked directly at Sam’s peep sight. It snarled and the rotting goatman looked up and at the false wall.

  “Intruders!” it snarled, clutching the yellowed, tattered half of a broken book in hands protected by leather gloves.

  Before the sentries in the room could turn to react Wulftone busted through. He ripped into the guards nearest the door with his claws as Sam rolled to the ground and dove behind cover. Jackie, Gita, and Harken all tumbled out after him.

  Sam dodged a few bursts of enemy fire and crawled perilously close to the altar—far closer to danger than he'd been yet. Harken rolled under the next wave of blasts and came up on his knees next to the archaeologist, mowing down a crowd of scaly cultists. He laid down suppressing cover-fire, looking frantically for the goatman he knew had to be close, but couldn't find him.

  With blaster fire flying all around and bursts of concussive shrapnel punctuating the air, Harken blew Jackie a kiss and winked from the eye of the storm. “Go save her, Sam,” Harken nodded to Shandra who lay only a few meters away, bound and wild-eyed on the profane altar. “I’ve got you covered.” He popped in a fresh power cell and bathed the area beyond the Cleric of Veritas with deadly energy.