NOBODY IMPORTANT DIES IN THIS CHAPTER.
The air in the lodge with thick with smoke, the scent of slick fluids, a tinge of blood, a half-muffled scream. The roar of the storm beat muffled against the roof, layer after layer of woven fronds trapping the warm wet heat in with us. Berkeley and I stooped and steamed just inside the rough doorway, watching Alaxoria at work. Ala was crouched down before the the soon-to-be-mother, who in turn was holding the remaining hand of her husband, squeezing it fit to tear that one clean off as well.
Alaxoria spoke with smooth, measured tones, a sheer undeniable presence in that cramped chamber. The ragged ends of her hair had grown a little since that first night by the bonfire, stray strands held the firelight. The soft yellow light that Zephyr had summoned for the lodge had faded and gone out some days ago, it had been replaced with a set of carefully tended braziers that heated well but lit poorly. Ala had four flickering shadows and blood on her hands. "Alchemic healing," she said without looking away from the task at hand. My hands fumbled through the little pack I always carried with me, searching for the very last metal vial.
My fingers closed around the latched stopper, and a thought shot through me. "But the baby..."
"Will be fine. Potion is for her after." said Ala in a tone that brooked absolutely no disagreement. I took one step forward, holding it out, but I couldn't quite bring myself to intrude all the way.
"Leave it. Is good, little Susan. You do not need stay."
"But Ala, I can help!"
"Yes. You can. Find Zephyr. Not for this. I feel... this storm, is not good."
I nodded, grateful and embarrassed in one, and turned to head out into the dark day. Berkeley took the vial from my hands, placing it next to an array of menacing silver knives. He spared me one glance and a quick smile, and began scrubbing his fingers in a basin.
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The water hit me like a fist. The rain didn't wait until it lay upon the earth to join up into streams and rivers, it was hard at work in the sky above me, knotting into ropes and skeins that came down, and down, and just kept pummelling the back of my hunched head and neck. I knew the charm for "protection against rain", which was taught to me as a joke by the worst teacher I ever had. Pure running water goes through weaker enchantments like acid, and storm-borne rain is about as pure as it can get. So the spell protects you from about one splash before collapsing.
I did know a warming charm, and in moments I was sweating in my armour as the cold water trickled down the back of my clothes. The sun was a faintly brighter patch of cloud, all else was grey with sheeting rain. In the wet haze, the lack of defined shadows gave everything a strangely flat affect. The first peals of thunder rolled across the hills from the direction of the ocean, making me twitch. John and Keller were arms-deep in a tumble of wood and branches, the downpour had overwhelmed the roof of a hastily built shelter and sent the inhabitants flooding out into the mud. The wails of a young child cut over the falling hiss, and I marched into the forlorn, swirling crowd. The kid had fallen to his knees in the mud, hands sunk in the dirt. "Hey buddy," I started, but when I tried to help him up the child just threw himself face-first into the mud and thrashed about. In the end, I had to bodily pick the kid up and hand the sopping mess over to the first adult in arms reach, turning back to help John and Keller. We worked side-by-side, silent in the rain, getting the last trapped woman out from the mess. Thankfully, no injuries from anyone, just wet misery all around.
We got the bedraggled group into another overcrowded lodge, and then... I won't bore you with it. It was long, tiresome, boring work, interspersed with snatched breaths and bites of cold food, then out into the rain again, and again and again, and a break taken in the quarrelsome huts, lit by my glowing magical lamp, staring into the hushed faces of the survivors. What was there to say? John kept up a constant stream of encouragements through the day, telling the city-folk to look after each other, to keep hopeful, to stay strong. Keller and I just herded them away from the latest near-disaster and into the whatever shelter was at hand, they could figure the rest out by themselves.
The grim sky flickered with lightning, the weary sun lit a thunderhead or two from the inside. It was enough to see your hand in front of your face, see the tree tops waving ragged in the squalls. Blink the water from your eyes, back out into the cold, keep the warming spell going, cast another on Keller, share a slug of something hot-foul, hear the yells for help and weeping in the half-light, get the remaining food stores out of the mud, find the nails, where's the hammer? Here's a rock. Where's Zephyr? Blink the water from your eyes.
The half-lit clouds curled in on themselves, the oceans leaned harder on the skies above, and the day grew darker still. Surely it hadn't been so long... but no use wondering, when I had something in my pocket for times like this. I crouched beneath a tree, leaning over the little black box, feeling leafy droplets tapping down the back of my head. It probably would've been safer for me to find a hut, clear everyone out of it into the rain, dabble with eldritch horrors out of the possible interference of a few drops of water, and then put them back in again once I was done. Probably. I opened the box anyway
It spat and rattled in my two-handed grip, I resisted the urge to dry my hands, and just waited. "I'll tear your heart out, fleshbag!" came the chattering little voice, gurgling from somewhere far away inside the box. "You're next, I'll fucking get you! Rip you apart and make you watch while I eat your eyeballs!"
"Clock Demon, tell me the time."
"It's twenty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds until six hours after noon. Hang you from your own intestines, and nail your feet together! And, and make you dance on them!"
"Thank you, Clock Demon."
"Bitch!"
I closed the box, and sighed. As I sat with it in my hands, the rain eased from torrential to merely soaking, to a light drizzle, and the afternoon sun was perhaps a touch brighter. Keller spotted it first, pushing wet black hair away from his eyes, and pointing. "Trouble." was all he said.
Not far from the settlement, the rain was falling. All of it. In one spot. The fury of the sky was coming down in a wall of frothing white-water, twisting and churning into a single hammer blow, a crushing force that should've blown itself apart in an instant. I looked away from the impossible storm, found the sun behind a cloud, tried to work out distances. North of the settlement. Not too far north, maybe an hours walk.
The river...
The black, warped river. The river full of flesh-obliterating knot-fish. The river that was, right now, receiving one large stormsworth of water.
Over the sound of the torrent came a medley of pops and zings. My eyes and ears stung with the sharp scent of half-a-dozen different flavours of citrus, the lemon got me just under my left eyelid, a sure sign of rushed and messy spellcasting. Through the tears, I caught a glimpse of a blue, Zephyr-shaped spark splashing through the downpour and coming in towards the settlement in great looping arcs. The mage twisted here and there through the sky, before going into a steep dive. A really steep dive. More of a headlong plummet, really.
"Incoming!" called Keller, burying his hand into the muddy soil and pulling up a long rusty harpoon that wasn't there a moment before. He inspected the tip about an inch from his squinted eye, brow set with professional concern. "Susan, where's Ala? Zephyr's gone wrong. Again..."
"Keller, you can't know that."
"No, but if it was going to happen, right now is the worst possible time for it. There's a pattern to this sort of thing."
Zephyr impacted before I could respond, carving into the ground at a shallow steaming angle. The mud splattered against Keller and I, and then some of it started wriggling. Zephyr made a gurgling sound: they were covered in writhing knot-fish, some carbonised the length of the spine, some sliced in half, some dissolving in acid, the rest were wriggling across and through the blue fluid that made up Zephyr's body, seeking flesh and blood to gnaw and swallow. Zephyr had three arms clasped around a powerful unfinished spell that had gone entirely awry, more and more magic was flowing into it just to delay detonation. The other arms were feebly plucking at the black scales of the fish, to no avail.
"Susan, I can't!" called Keller, who was now wrestling with the wickedly hooked harpoon, struggling to get it back underground while it wished only for blood. I said nothing, just bent down and touched the catch on the inner ankle of my right boot. There was a subtle ting, and I was four inches taller on that side. Limping over to the swarming pile, I whispered an apology to Zephyr, and started stomping. The golden spike sticking out of my boot went through scales like butter, the hardened sole smashed through thin skulls. Every backswing pulled a spray of stinking guts with it. Begrudgingly, the knot-fish gave up on their original, weakened target and came for me instead, flitting across the mud on razor-tipped fins, toothsome mouths lolling stupidly open. Before they could latch on and drag me down, Keller came through in a flicker of quick knives going through necks, daggers flying into the dirt to catch any that tried to burrow away.
I had fish guts in my socks.
I started laughing in the pile of shredded corpses, halfway to falling over. "I'm out of socks! I used up all my socks! And now I haven't got any more!"
I thought it was funny, but clearly Keller didn't, because he slapped me in the face.
"You need to calm down. Sorry. You need to calm down, Zephyr needs your help."
Zephyr had crawled a short distance away from the steaming pile of pulverised knot-fish, but the spell clutched in five of their arms was weighing them down, dragging in the mud. "Weather..." they hissed, like a crooked tea-kettle. The botched weather-working was churning away, drawing as much power as it could from Zephyr, winding up to halt a storm it couldn't find. My hands were shaking and slimy with blackened sweat as I clawed through my pockets. When I finally found the pouch, I twitched, and sent precisely cut emeralds and rubies tumbling into the mud. Tears caught in my throat while Zephyr curled in on themselves around the spell, sizzling and bubbling. I crouched down, awkward on the boot-spike, squishing my hands through the deep brown mud. After one minute and one year, my fingers closed around a cubic black zirconia, the last one I had. I didn't have time to sing a prayer, just crawled on my hands and knees over to Zephyr. They made a noise like a tree uprooting in the night, and shifted the pulsating misshapen spell above my hands, directly atop the gemstone. There was a click-click-click-click as the zirconia stretched...
Please no. Please just-
And held, the spell sucked down into the stone and locked permanently inside.
I collapsed, face down in the mud, while Zephyr swished upwards, suddenly freed from the burden. "Well! We really need to stop attempting major castings outside of a fully stocked laboratory. Although, it is possible we could create a stone binding circle, the old style. Imagine that! But besides the point, the storm is coalescing with the poisoned river, and there are more knot-fish coming."
Keller crouched down next to me, flicking his eyes northwards. "The river broke its banks?"
"Unrelated. The settlement has sufficient elevation to preclude that avenue. No, the unique storm cell structure is resulting in strong vertical flow. There is a term, yes, raining cats and dogs?"
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Keller carefully put down his knives, and put his head in his hands. Just for a moment. Just for a few seconds, and then picked up his knives, and got up.
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"But we should - we can't tell - but if -" John paced back and forth while the sky grew darker.
"John, we need to tell them," I said, again, "if they panic and run off, they'll die in the woods. If we don't tell them, they'll get caught flat in the lodges. It's getting dark."
"Yes. Yes, it's getting dark. We need. Lights! Zephyr, can you?"
"Can. One moment."
There was a huff of air, and a tree near the centre of camp caught alight in a roar. Another word, and the crackling flames spun into slow red streamers that shone a bloody light across the entire settlement. "It will burn until dawn."
Staring at the sudden flames, a sharp shadow caught my eye as it flickered down between us and the burning tree.
Keller snapped his head around, nose twitching. I pointed, and he was off, silent footsteps leaving not a drop of mud out of place. There was a gurgle, and bits of knot-fish flew. "Just a small one!" called Keller, but there was a muffled plop, and then another, and then something rustling in the trees, and then-
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"It is eight minutes after eight hours since noon, and I'll be pulling out your fingernails with my teeth before the sun rises!"
"Thank you, Clock Demon. Bleh, I think I got some in my mouth. Keller, is your waterskin - thanks."
"Gnnarrrr! Eating your face!"
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We had been taking a moment to breath, not thinking about the weird lack of activity, taking for granted a moment of serenity in the red-washed stinking night. The knot-fish were all creeping towards the same barricaded lodge, the monsters packed themselves up against the door, while two of them chewed a hole in the roof. The screaming was short and rapid, sleeping forms dragged awake by slimy jaws. Then rattling at the door, pulling away the sturdy plank, pushing frantically against the wet blockage holding it shut, pleading. Then silence.
John plunged his sword into the pile, again and again, kicking aside the twitching knot-fish bodies before they were fully dead, and wrenched open the door to the silent hut, before slamming it back shut and leaning his full weight against it. "Zephyr!" he cried out into the night, "Dear fucking god, Zephyr!" There was the sound of meat smacking against the rough door, tentative at first, and then a splintery slam, something inside that wanted out. "Zephyr, kill it, kill it, please just-"
Black light, descending from on high, cutting through the roof, turning the wood to moist pulp, the hut collapsing in, the thing inside collapsing in on itself, crawling, rippling with fins, crawling, moaning with twenty voices, reaching for John's armoured leg, the black light coming back for another pass, and again, until the only thing moving was John, scrambling on his back.
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"It's fifteen minutes and seven seconds until midnight, scumbag! I'll get you, see if I don't!"
"Thank you."
"Get you! Get you get you get you-"
"Thank you, Clock Demon! Fuck."
"Get you! Blahhh."
I snapped the box shut, nearly dropping it. The rain was a cooling drizzle against my fish-gut splattered face. Zephyr spun another white light spell that zipped away towards the north, coming back moments later. Keller had a tiny nick above his eye that was rapidly staining a white bandage wrapped around the top of his face. We were fine. Well, the five of us were fine. Ala was still in the centre lodge, we had heard her calm and reassuring voice coming from inside a few times. Zephyr was in fine form. John was staring. I was fine. We were fine.
The sinking feeling started from my toes, crawling slowly up past my knees. I looked for Keller in the red-lit night, and our eyes met. My ears popped. The rain stopped, the last shower falling in a rattling burst against the trees and the dirt, leaving an open silence.
And then, the clear bell tone, ringing out of the horizon, from all around, the rising song of knife-split air. "Mountain Spirit! MOUNTAIN SPIRIT!" called John, doing the right thing, the only thing. The lodge beside us fairly shook as Alaxoria roared, "MOUNTAIN SPIRIT, MOUNTAIN SPIRIT!" setting the mother-to-be sobbing in helpless fear. All around us the shouts and calls came from within and without the lodges, two calls, then silence.
Silence, but for the pure ringing sound that came from above, came from everywhere, came down upon you even as it rose up, and up, shifting slowly from violin to ear-splitting screech.
"Zephyr." said John. It was a question.
";" came the answer.
"Can you do it."
"With help. There is a chance. An outside chance-"
"You have it," said John, reaching for his sword "anything you need. We should've planned for this earlier but-"
"John. Stop. Do you really mean it. Anything?"
John paused, not facing us. "Whatever you need to get us through this."
Zephyr spun in place for a moment, blue tendrils curling in on the main body.
"A sacrifice is needed. A good one. Willing. Strong. Someone to die, to protect the rest."
From inside the lodge came the wailing of a woman, no, no, the sound of shifting wood, staggering footsteps in the sudden darkness outside. The one-armed husband was wild-eyed, staring at the four of us. Ala called from within, "you get back here!" but he shook his head.
"I'm- I'm strong." was all he said.
The wail of the Mountain Spirit flowed higher, and tighter, the clouds above us stippled with lights like stars.
"...Forgive us. Please forgive us." said John, reaching out with both hands to hold his remaining one. John's eyes were wide and dry, gaze locked until the very final moment.
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Zephyr unfolded like a weed in spring, jutting up a dozen new arms, doubling, tripling in size, grey blood coursing through it all, interlinked spells igniting and flashing away in seconds. The ground around them steamed, charred away to desiccated clay, cracked under some unfathomable pressure. The thoughts inside that azure monstrosity came thundering out, feeling us to stand back, thinking us to stay close to the ground, herding us away as the Mountain Spirit came down towards the clouds like an arrow, unseen for all its passing shattered the air. Zephyr moved without the customary blaze of fire, just swapped positions in thumping lurches, now above the canopy, now just below the clouds, then a dozen paces to the east, spells unfurling like sails to lash out-
The sky shook. The light came down, and I shut my eyes against the noise, but it made no difference. A splatter of rain flecked across our upturned faces. I wiped some from my brow. It was blue. Blue liquid. Smeared into the dirt.
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John spoke to someone. To someone beautiful, and terrifying, and merciful, the mercy of a pillow pulled away from a dying face. John spoke and begged, and was heard, and rose to his feet, and rose higher still, standing on the air and speaking the words at midnight.
Dawn broke, snapping the clouds in half like twigs across a knee, golden light piercing the night sky, sending it curling back on itself. The Mountain Spirit made the noise of four million kicked dogs, and left us in pieces.
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The blue blobs looked like rotten blueberries, forgotten and trodden on. Zephyr wouldn't be seen dead like this. Each of the blobs was extruding little feelers, mockeries of the limbs that Zephyr conjured up at need. When the feelers of two blobs met, blind fumbling in the dawn-lit night, the blue fluid would flash once, twice, and the blobs would merge with a squelch and a pop. The largest group was about the size of my fist, wobbling around in the air like a drunken baby bird.
The process was agonisingly slow, but I knew from sad experience that trying to help only made things worse. The blue sludge needed to figure itself out. The floating blob figured out how to drape a net of filaments through the mud, and circle back when contact was made. With time, it started expanding into a lighter cloud, a diffused gas, a crackle of lightning moving in the depths. The limbs took on more complex forms, paddles to suck up the dirt and filter it for hidden gems. The central body twisted and spasmed, splitting open into soundless gasping mouths, roiling orbs, and then, an eye.
My heart sank. I knew that eye. The glowing construction rose to head-height, twitching with mouths and noses and ears and eyes, so many eyes, angling towards some kind of goal, some kind of perfect face. A face long abandoned.
A mouth sprouted out the top of the orb, hundreds of tiny teeth, a giant blue tongue, grappling with the air. It pushed and it blew until a faint hissing sound turned into a proper "S".
"Sss- S. Sssss. Ssssssss."
I wanted to bury my face in my hands, to stay silent, to pretend it wasn't happening. But it wouldn't do any good to prolong this. "Yes. I'm here."
"Ssss. Saaaa. Suuuu. Suuuusan. Susan. Are you there?" The tongue shrank and twisted, suddenly it could speak. A bright, happy voice, riddled with sleep.
"...I'm here Max. It's me."
"Susan, oh Susan, it is you!" said the mouth at the top of the blue blob. It was him. He was back. "Susan I've... I've had the strangest dream." An eye popped up next to the mouth, squished and jiggled until it could point in one direction at a time, mostly.
"Why don't- why don't you tell me about it, Max?" I couldn't help myself.
"We, we were in a village," he said, the massive blue mouth quirking in mild confusion. "We were in a village, and you said I was- but anyway. It was only a dream. Where's John? Where's Ala? Shouldn't we be getting going soon? The sun is so high in the sky already."
"Max..."
The eye twisted back and forth, stretching the gaseous flesh each way.
"I- what? Why am I blue?"
"Max, you need to listen to me."
"Susan, what's happened to me? I've had the worst sleep, I feel terrible. Where's John?"
"Max, please-"
"I need, I need, I need you to get John. Please? I'm sure John can-"
"Max!" I shouted to cut him off, and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling until it hurt. It didn't hurt enough. "Max, you're dead. I need Zephyr back."
"I... Susan, what do you mean? You're confused. It's not real. Zephyr's not-"
"I need Zephyr, Max. We need Zephyr to come back. You've been dead a long time, Max. You need to go."
"... No. No! Susan, you can't make me! Susan! Susan please, please Susan, you can't, you can't make me go back! Susan, let me stay! Susaa, pl, Suuu, Ssssssss. Sssssssss."
The mouth closed in on itself, the eyeball rolled up into the blue, and the entire structure smoothed out into a single gleaming sphere.
For a time, there was silence.
";"
"What." I said.
"We are sorry," said Zephyr, but I could tell they didn't mean it. "That was worse than last time, wasn't it?"
I had to laugh, "last time was pretty bad! It's always bad Zephyr!"
"But we are back. We survived. That must count for something."
"Zephyr, every time Max comes back-"
"It isn't Maxwell, " insisted Zephyr, swirling up to head-height. "Maxwell Harlington is entirely, completely dead. We promise you this, Susan, he is absolutely gone for good."
"Right, but..."
"Whatever it says to you, whatever it seems to think or remember, it isn't Max. Remember that. Should anything happen to, to Zephyr. Do not forget. It's not him, it never can be."
I didn't respond, just watch the midnight dawn. To the north and south was the dark of night, spattered with lost wisps of wrung out stormclouds. A chasm of golden fire split the sky down the middle, setting the birds to bewildered chirping, wisps of steam rising from sunlit soil and leaves. I didn't respond, just listened to the baby howl in the brand-new day.