One of the Black hissed nearby. “What does it matter? If the glorious Awakening occurs as planned, then this is an exercise in futility. We will have already played our roles. We can lie down, die, and be done with it”
Caivev shot the soldier a piercing glare. His eyes suddenly lit up as he understood her motivation: she didn’t fully trust the goat-demon. The mouthy warrior wilted beneath her gaze… she meant to be present at the unshackling of the last obelisk to ensure that the Brothers of the Winnowing kept their promises.
She paused while the overexerted minions tried to regain whatever energy they could and mulled over a jumbled cluster of thoughts in her mind. Akko Soggathoth had left them with a riddle before he departed—had he teased them with the possibility of riding through the craggy lines of the cracks just as he had done?
The panting soldier who'd spoken up caught her eye again. He seemed to know her thoughts and see the same possibilities she'd pondered. "You want to travel through the jagged breach—even though you don't know who might die and who would live? And if we did either, would it even matter as long it eventually served Sh'logath's purposes?"
Caivev nodded resolutely. There was no point in denying it.
The Black vyrm shrugged and walked towards the nearest crack. “Then let us test if it is even possible. I volunteer. Who is with me?”
Three others joined him at the crack. “We shall discover the odds of success—let’s hope the ratio is consistent.”
Caivev didn’t say a word. She merely watched as her troops performed an act of service to their deity and for their peers’ education. If they succeeded, perhaps some of them could still make it to the releasing of Akko Sxkakzacros.
The brave instigator looked back to Caivev. “Are you really committed to the Mighty Agod? If your faith falters—are you worthy of Dunnischktet?” While looking at her, he reached out and grabbed the crack.
Immediately his body turned inside out from his center, crushing him from within and liquefying him into a puddle of shrieking flesh and fluids. The reward for such faith in a terrible deity proved harsh.
His three peers grabbed on at the same time. One of them burst into flames and crumbled into blackened heaps of ash; another turned to face his peers as he staggered towards them—his eyeballs sank away and he melted down with each step as if he’d turned into wax and his belly were a furnace. The final vyrm disappeared with a puff of ozone and seemed to wink into nothingness.
Skrom toed the twitching mass of waxy flesh that had puddled a step away. "Twenty-five percent chance? I expected worse."
“Closer to fifteen if you count the others from earlier,” Caivev growled.
Her general shrugged his bulging shoulders nonchalantly. “Do we continue on foot or risk glory for Sh’logath?”
"A twenty-five percent chance is far better than our odds of beating Walther's travel machine to the haunted circle on foot."
Uncomfortable glances rippled through the party. Then they turned to risk everything on Caivev’s whim—their faith overrode every self-preservation instinct within the vyrm. Even if none of them survived, there still remained the other group trying to reach Earth through the Temple gates.
Skrom winked at Caivev as she and his leader approached the same segment of the crack and lined up alongside it. “See you on the other side—I hope.”
The outspoken vyrm’s words rang in her ears. Are you worthy of Dunnischktet? In tandem with all of her scaly counterparts, Caivev stretched out her hands. As one unit they laid hold of the reality fissure, and then nothing remained of her.
***
“I don’t know what to say except that we must act—and it must be swift!”
Wulftone glowered at Shandra, who insisted on action. She stood nearby with a half dozen other clerics of her order within the Veritas—The Merciful Hammer, though Master Druen wouldn’t join them. The four leaders were far too important to risk in battle.
Shandra’s clerics had equipped for battle; their war hammers hung at their sides, each imbued with a fragment of a rare element they claimed could disrupt the powers of the Darque forces: an ingot forged of darquematter.
“You’ve criticized Zabe in the past for rushing to act,” he spat. Wulftone fully agreed with her call to arms—but he resented the implications of it: that Zabe and Claire might be incapable of returning.
Very seriously Shandra lowered her voice with fear and reverence. “I have consulted the head of our order. Even Shjikara is shaken to the core at the thought of a full release of Akko Soggathoth’s kin… this is the same man who remained within the cloister during Nitthogr’s assault, yet he has pledged support, now.”
Wulftone nodded diplomatically and scanned the room. Besides their inner circle, it contained only Shandra’s clerics and Chira, who had become an interim replacement leader for the Royal Military following Harken’s death.
“I’ve still been unable to locate the princess,” Tay-lore stated woefully. “Have your clerics had any success?”
Shandra scowled and bit her lip, refusing to glance at the two people at her right. All eyes avoided the blank stares of Sam Jones and Jackie. They sat together at the head of the long table—where Claire would have normally presided—and listened to discussions that presumed Claire and Zabe were lost.
The cleric sighed and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Yes. But she hasn’t been truly located. With a little help, Shjikara was able to feel a glimmer, but nothing resolute. She is beyond the Tesseract, though he believes that she lives.”
Wulftone leaned over the table. "I know this whole thing sucks," he said. "But we need everyone focused on this one problem—we've got to stop Caivev's plans, no matter the cost." He looked over at the android. "Tay-lore knows the location of the last darquegate and we're sure the enemy is on the move even now—plus they can travel incredibly fast because of her alliance with those same forces that aided Nitthogr and killed Jenner's father three years ago."
Tay-lore projected a map onto the table. A visual plan grabbed Sam and Jackie’s attention as they leaned forward to assess the strategy. Glowing like a star, their entry point on the north side of the satellite map pulsed with hope.
In his robotic voice, he said, "There is an ancient monastery near the old forest. We can use the mirrors to enter and remain fairly close; we must only traverse the woods, which locals believe is cursed, in order to reach the location."
Jackie spluttered with laughter. “Of course it’s cursed. Where is this haunted woods at?”
“Romania.”
Sam’s ears perked up. “What part of Romania—specifically, Tay-lore?”
“Transylvania,” he said. “This is the Hoia Baciu Forest.”
The archaeologist exhaled a terse sigh. “It’s been called the ‘most haunted forest in the world.’”
Chira shuddered. “If it’s anything like the Island of the Dolls I might recommend some liquid courage before departure.”
Shandra squeezed Sam’s hand. “I thought you didn’t believe in that sort of nonsense?”
“I didn’t believe because I hadn’t yet seen. I’ve been through enough to convince me in these last couple years… heck in the last week.”
Wulftone shrugged. “Haunted or not, this is our line in the sand. We cannot allow the vyrm forces to release Akko Sxkakzacros. If all brothers are revived, we might not stand a chance.”
Trenzlr, the defector from the scaly race interjected a thought. “Once the last brother is awakened, they will possess unspeakable power, though they will be fixated on the Nihil Bridge if they are in league with Caivev. If the secret histories of my people are right, the release of Sh’logath might be a merciful end better than allowing the Brothers of the Winnowing to remain at large.”
A ripple of assent circulated the room.
“You all know what must be done. Gather your troops, gear, or prepare accordingly. We roll out as soon as possible.”
Respan piped
up at the far end of the table. “If you’re going into the woods, I’ve been working on something that might help prevent the kind of sneak attacks encountered during the last missions at the Island of the Dolls and Antarctica.” The scientist glanced sheepishly towards Tay-lore. “Well, we worked on it.”
***
Akko Soggathoth fingered the fresh bindings of his mystic book. Flesh had regrown and wrapped the spine and covers, healing itself. Rolling his eyes back into his head, the eldritch beast connected his sight to that of his minion, his acolyte Theera. He looked through his eyes and experienced everything that Theera did as if he was a passenger in the man's head.
Theera waited at the chamber door in the lobby of the secret society’s meeting room. He knew that the Heptobscurantum’s Seven met inside.
Finally, the doors parted and they invited the cleverly disguised vyrm within. With his concealment makeup, Theera looked as passable as any human. He didn’t need it in the company of the Seven, but everywhere else in New York City necessitated a certain level of obfuscation.
The Seven each pulled back their ceremonial hoods to reveal their faces. Theera didn’t care—he wouldn’t have recognized any of them, no matter how famous they were, and he knew some of them were just that. Akko Soggathoth was no respecter of fame, and neither would Theera be now that his heart and mind were touched by the beast.
Theera nodded and acknowledged the introductions and small talk, but paid little attention to the rest of their banter. His visit was not for pleasure; he made certain that everything followed his master’s plan to the letter.
The vyrm glanced at the cloaked man with salt and pepper hair and a million-dollar smile. He recognized Percival Wainsmith because of the man’s importance, rather than his notoriety.
Wainsmith and Sisyphus stood next to each other.
“You are ready for the great sacrifice, Mister Wainsmith?” Theera asked.
The magnate nodded unflinchingly. He almost seemed happy for his part in the great game Akko Soggathoth had engineered.
“I have noticed such sorrow and indecision in humans when so much is required,” Theera said.
“Then you’ve not known many powerful humans,” Wainsmith stated with a hint of threat in his voice. “My dedication to the Awakening remains unwavering. Didn’t I deliver up my daughter, just as promised?”
Theera smiled diplomatically and bowed.
Sisyphus quelled the tension and redirected the rest of the Seven to take their seats.
Andrew Thornton, finally brought out of hiding, leaned over the carved table and cocked an eyebrow. “We were heavily involved in the last attempted Awakening—as per described in the Grimmorium Nitthogr,” he referenced the weathered tome that now lay at the center of the table. “What part will we play in this?”
Theera looked right through Thornton and sneered with needle-sharp teeth. He didn't give away the man's secret, but the two locked eyes and both of them knew that the other knew something was hidden from the rest.
“We are only there to observe the glorious arrival of our glorious agod,” Sisyphus stated. “The Awakening will be unleashed by the Brothers of the Winnowing from within the Darque at the gates of Koth. Theera, Percival, and I will leave shortly to collect Mrs. Wainsmith who is vacationing in Romania. You may join us briefly in Chiriquí but will celebrate in the usual manner from a remote location.
The table rumbled with murmured blessings. They understood their roles.
A triangular energy gate tore itself open and invited the threesome to enter the waypoint in Germany before it could send them to their next destination.
"Gentlemen, and lady," Sisyphus greeted his illuminati once more and then departed.
***
Claire, Zabe, and Tahnak tumbled to a stop as they hit the end of the line for the crack they traveled along. They'd zipped along like a current through a circuit, but fell out and back into existence, such as it was in the Darque, when the conduit tapered to an end.
They rolled to their feet and faced their destination. The reverse image of Mullen Nebraska spread out before them, except the houses and buildings they'd once seen on Earth weren't made of wood and brick, here. Rather, they towered as crystalline formations of varying translucency.
Cracks terminated all over in the distance surrounding the town as if it were some kind of central hub. A jagged spider web of craggy fissures coiled all throughout the town. More menacing than that, however, was the towering crown of obsidian spikes that broke through the middle part of town where the Heptobscurantum had once tried to sacrifice Claire on the Earth version of this place.
Twelve curving obelisks curved like claws that scraped the sky and clutched the central nexus location. Curling, jagged lines wreathed the spires like vines. They pulsed with a toxic kind of light.
“I don’t think we should touch these ones,” Tahnak said of the different kind of cracks.
Claire had barely come back to consciousness, though wearied greatly. She and Zabe nodded their assent.
The trio moved as quickly as possible and weaved their way over, under, and around the serrated obstacles. Those same, ethereal creatures they encountered previously floated through the cracks and the crystalline structures.
At the center of the winding helicoid throbbed an ill light. It pulsed with a kind of dread heartbeat. The unnatural vibrations made the shimmering spirit creatures act differently as the intruders grew closer.
Swarming aggressively close to Tahnak, the ghostly creatures buzzed as close as they dare. They snarled and postured as much as they could in the eerie silence.
Tahnak drew his pistol and fired through a flurry of the things. The blaster burst burned through the air and passed through the creatures with no result, except to make them angrier.
A small phalanx of the shadowy things swooped around and dove towards Claire. Zabe growled and stepped between them, drawing the Stone Glaive from its scabbard. The swarm split and peeled off into different directions as if terrified at the sight of the arcane weapon; they even seemed to make an audible noise—like a yelp of terror.
Navigating the spiral took only a few more moments, but the floating ghost-things kept a wide berth. Their hollow eyes remained fixed upon the ancient blade.
Suddenly, the ethereal things turned their heads towards something in the distance, as if they heard some call only they were attuned too. With muted hissing and screeching they slowly descended towards the ground and migrated towards the nearest cracks, their empty sockets never departing from the edged bane within Zabe’s grip.
Only a few steps away from the center, Zabe, Claire, and Tahnak watched as the creatures filtered through the fissure and bled into the bright core nearby the inverse Nebraska site. The eerie glow intensified as it absorbed the disembodied things, and then the core flashed and darkened.
Claire looked at the site with a mix of worry and skepticism. She met the eyes of her companions who shared the same look.
“Well… that was something different,” Tahnak quipped.
“This whole place is different,” Zabe commented, standing in the shadow of the curved, talon-like obelisks.
“And yet,” Claire stepped into the center. She opened out her hands and closed her eyes—stretching out her senses into the astral plane. “It feels all so familiar, too… like that same feeling I’ve gotten in every place I ever believed was truly haunted.”
She opened her eyes and they all traded glances. The intensity in her eyes convinced the others. “We’ve got to get out of here—and soon—if we’re going to stop Caivev.”
***
Respan finished handing each person an awkward looking headband. He put one on his head where it fit snugly and rotated the small arm with a viewing lens in front of his eye. “It has two modes,” the inventor said loudly enough to hear. “Tap the button to switch between heat sensing, Darque mode, and off. It should help you pierce the heavy camouflage of the enemy.”
He turned to the leaders as he cycled the settings and then paused. He spoke so only Wulftone’s inner circle could hear him. “You have a glow, Wulftone.”
“What?”
"The scanner, it's in Darque mode and registers your aura… faintly, but you register."
The some-times lycan merely nodded. “Must be from what we learned in the Book of Vangandra.”
Respan nodded and then stepped back. He’d been one of the first to help read the book with Sam Jones and learned about the mysterious origins of when their ancestor was exposed to Darque artifacts.
Wulftone placed the scanner on his brow and then cut his hand to awaken the mirror's power. He wrapped a bandage around his hand and looked at Jackie as the mirror portal opened; the wound would heal quickly—fully, as soon as he switched forms.
Jackie gave him one final, tender look before steeling her face for the battle they expected.
Wulftone nodded to Chira who stood at the head of the military lined up in the hallway stretching away from the mirror room. Shandra stood nearby with a dozen members of the warrior faction from the Order of the Veritas.
All of Shandra’s clerics stood as nonchalant as possible, but Wulftone recognized fear in their eyes. They were shaken to their core—all soldiers from the Order trained with the Guardian Corps before choosing the holy path, but none of them had ever seen actual battle.
The de facto leader swallowed hard and turned to face those men and women about to follow him through the mirror, again. He hadn’t wanted this role—leader of the Guardian Corps; fidgeting with Zahaben’s leather cuff, he prayed to the Architect King that he wouldn’t be the last in the line of Vangandra.
“I’m not much on inspirational speeches,” he shouted. “Just remember one thing. Everything is at stake—your lives, your families. We cannot fail!”
“We will not fail!” responded the troops in echoed unison.
Wolves of the Tesseract Collection Page 47
