Six days. That was how long they remained at the Red Stiletto, marooned in the storm. It had seemed almost impossible that the weather could actually get worse, until Tim was proven wrong shortly after midnight on Saturday. The winds and rain became so violent that the walls of the already damaged kitchen were torn clean off, along with a sizable portion of the roof. The interior was flooding so quickly that they had no choice but to flee. Lauren was right: this storm was clearly a supernatural force.
On and on Tim ran, Lauren clutching onto him so fiercely that between her and the storm he could barely breathe, trying to fight through the haze of fog and heavy droplets battering his glasses. His mobility was severely limited and visibility wasn’t much better. Most of the roads had devolved into deep channels of swirling, muddy water. Wherever Jon, Haley, and Oscar were in this storm, he hoped they were all right.
At last, after nearly an hour of confused, desperate running, Tim laid eyes upon their new safehaven. It was an abandoned house nestled upon a hill that had managed to escape the floodwaters. It was an agonizing climb, but they finally managed to push through the front doors, drenched and gasping for breath, but safe.
“I think we should make a note, that whichever Harbinger is responsible for the storm is the one we need to kill first,” Lauren said savagely, squeezing water from her hair.
“It’s Valarok,” Tim said with so much conviction that Lauren stared at him. He removed his sneakers and emptied the water that had been sloshing around his feet during their entire journey. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? By process of elimination: Orpheo creates ice and Erymithia shoots lightning, so Big Brother is the most logical choice.”
“I guess,” Lauren said, though she sounded uncertain.
Tim hesitated, wondering if now was the best time to raise a concern that had recently come to his attention. He chanced a glance at Lauren and saw that she still looked displeased, but in fairness that was pretty much how she had looked for most of their time at the restaurant. Trying to tap into buried memories was a much more difficult art to master than Tim had given credit for. He stood indecisive for a moment, but then he plowed on. “Speaking of those three, I’ve been wondering about something. We know that Erymithia shoots lightning right?”
“Yeah.”
“Green lightning,” Tim said with a very pointed look.
“Yeah?” said Lauren, who had clearly not gotten the hint.
“And your spear also generates green lightning,” said Tim, gesturing more emphatically with his hands.
A look of uncertainty clouded Lauren’s face, which told him she had understood at last. “You — you think there’s some kind of correlation?”
“I’m not sure. But I think it’s way too much of a coincidence to pose it up to chance.”
“But we’ve never met Erymithia or any of the Harbingers before last week. What kind of connection could there be?”
“Right. We never met them before, but did you see the way Erymithia reacted when she saw Sytris? It’s like she knew him. And there’s reason to think he was the one who created our weapons: you know, the blacksmith’s forge we found through the mirror in his room. What if they actually met before, and your spear was created with some inspiration from her?”
Lauren paused, taking it all in. “I know you said crazy is our life now and we should embrace it, but there’s really only so much crazy I can process at a time and I’ve already gone over the quota for today.”
“It’s not even daybreak yet.”
“Exactly!”
Lauren strode over to a mercifully dry patch of floor and sat down, a look of deep exasperation on her face. Tim sat down beside her.
“You know, we never really talked about them showing up — what it means. I guess mostly I was trying to avoid the subject until we could all discuss it together when… if we all made it to Sytris’s safehouse. But spending six days in a mystical storm can make you evaluate some of your choices, I suppose.”
“What’s there to talk about?” asked Lauren. “Aside from the fact that you think Sytris might have been involved with the people who want us dead?”
“Well that’s just it — do they want us dead?” Lauren whipped her head around so fast that it seemed she almost cricked her neck, and gave him such an incredulous stare that he hastened on: “What I mean is, killing us didn’t look like it was their top priority. They wanted something from us. Some kind of — erm… what was it again?”
Tim racked his brain to remember but the word the eldest brother had used eluded him, as if it had been washed out of his mind by the hurricane.
“They called it a nexus,” Lauren said quietly.
“Yes. They think we have that, whatever that is.”
“But we don’t!” she said indignantly. “Why would they even think we do? None of us knew that magic or any of this stuff was real until five minutes ago!”
Tim sat silently for a moment, turning it over in his mind, trying to consider all the possibilities. “Maybe… maybe it’s something like our weapons. We had them all this time without knowing what they actually were. They said they tracked the nexus to the mansion, right? It could have been close by and we had no idea, which is why they were so sure that it was there.”
Lauren, who had jumped to her feet and began pacing around in agitation, paused. Then she gave a pronounced sigh and turned to face him. “If that is what actually happened, I can give you one guess who would know a thing or two about magical artifacts concealed as mundane accessories.”
Tim sighed too. “Sytris.”
“Don’t you see? All of this boils right back down to him.”
“Woah woah, hold on.” Tim stood up as well, looking up into Lauren’s pale, confused face. She was rather taller than him, her bright green eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure why he was even defending Sytris, only that some part of him wished to hear his side of the story before passing judgment. Lauren was the second person to aim mistrust against him, it was only fair that he be given the chance to clear his name. “That’s assuming that he even knows what this nexus thing is.”
“He probably does. He went to all these lengths to create a bunch of magical safehouses just to make sure that the Harbingers couldn’t reach us, but the Harbingers live on a completely different planet. Why would they chase us across the galaxy unless there’s something in it for them? The thrill of the kill?” She scoffed. “Doesn’t seem likely. But if they thought that we had something important that they needed…”
“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but that doesn’t mean this is Sytris’s fault. He was fulfilling his mission to protect us. For all we know, him creating the safehouses could have just been because he didn’t want to take any chances. It’s not like the Harbingers are the only supernatural threats that are out there.”
Lauren rolled her eyes to the heavens and shook her head. “Fine. If you want to play the role of the dutiful optimist, go ahead. Let him have the chance to explain. All the more reason to find out what happened to him.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Tim said, sliding his feet reluctantly back into his soggy sneakers. Lauren’s eyebrows drew together.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to try to go back to the mansion, to see if there’s anything there that could point us in the right direction.”
“Are you crazy?” said Lauren at once. “What if the Harbingers are still there? Or what if they’re out there looking for us right now and you run right into them?”
“That’s why I’m going alone. It’d be easier to get away if it’s just me, and this way even if things go south no one else has to get hurt. You stay here and try to see what you can get on Sytris, or anyone else really. But as the Goddess of Memory that’s something only you can do. I can’t help with this, but sitting here doing nothing while you try to find the others isn’t making me feel any better. I just — I feel like I need to do something.”
“Going out in this freak weather isn’t going to help anyone! What if you get caught? Then where would we be?”
Tim smirked at her, adjusting his glasses. “Are you worried about me? Careful Lauren, you’re starting to sound more and more like a big sister with every passing minute.”
She didn’t respond, but she was giving him a silent pleading look.
“I can’t stay cooped up anymore. I know you understand how frustrating it is.”
Lauren exhaled through her nose. “Fine,” she said grudgingly. “Do what you have to do. Just don’t die, you idiot. And don’t get caught either.”
“That I can promise. I’m the God of Speed, remember? Running is my specialty.”
He gave her one last, reassuring smile, then turned and raced off, through the door and down the hill.
----------------------------------------
It was much easier maneuvering through the rain without Lauren. Now that he could make better use of his arms and was free of the heavy weight on his back, Tim was able to move much more freely. He resigned himself to the fact that wading through the rivers of filthy water flooding the roads was unavoidable. Unlike speedsters he saw in movies, he wasn’t capable of running on water. The best he could do was try to find the roads where the water levels were at their lowest, and when that didn’t work, trudge his way across waist-high channels of extremely polluted water.
It was terrible. He was cold, drenched and weary. In the earlier days of their time at the mansion, Sytris had informed them that now that their powers were restored to full strength they would never have to worry about falling victim to mundane illnesses, but Tim still had a cold, unavoidable feeling that his health was still at risk as he drudged through the murky depths.
As he made his way through the city he looked around, assessing the damage the storm had wrought. Trees had been uprooted, wires burst, and light posts knocked down. Cars were abandoned in water that rose right up to their windows, and some buildings had lost their roofs. To think that Valarok had caused so much damage just to punish them or trap them sent a hot surge of rage through his body. If they were forced to take part in a vicious, supernatural war simply because of their lineage, fine. He didn’t like it but there was nothing that could be done. But innocent people didn’t deserve to have their lives ruined as a result.
About fifteen minutes had passed before Tim realized he had no idea where he was going. He couldn’t remember the direction he had come or where the mansion was located.
It was an extremely difficult feat, trying to navigate his way forward with the place so dark. The raindrops battering against him felt like bullets; every gust of wind threatened to heave him from the waters he was paddling through and into the tempestuous sky. Lauren had been right — again. There was no way he could fight his way back to the mansion like this. Drenched to the bone, he decided to take a brief reprieve.
A small, derelict building blossomed from the darkness, whose name he couldn’t make out but which was painted on in fading crimson lettering. He rushed through the deserted parking lot, over the barbed fences and through the front door, which was open.
A small, disorganized office space greeted him. It looked as if this place had fallen into neglect long before Hurricane Valarok had rolled in. Debris was strewn across the wooden floor, which creaked ominously every time he stepped forward. The hard-backed chairs were covered in a layer of dust, and the desks were coated in mildew. Tim sat down very gingerly upon one of these seats, which gave a dangerous wobble, and exhaled deeply through his nose. He didn’t know how they could get on with this storm. If it didn’t let up soon…
He took off his glasses and rubbed them gently against an old roll of hand towel he found nearby. It wasn’t recommended, but he could barely see with the water on the lenses. It was then that he remembered the advice Sytris had once given him, about trying to locate his siblings using the connection they shared through their weapons.
In all honesty he hadn’t managed to fully tap into that connection the first time he’d tried to track Jon and Oscar. The best he had gotten was a very faint spark, with even vaguer directions. Him stumbling upon them had been mostly due to chance. But maybe this time…
He had just settled himself in his seat, preparing to ease his mind the same way he had been trying to help Lauren to do for the last two days, when a noise somewhere down the corridor made him start.
Tim sat bolt upright in his chair. He peered down the corridor, his heart hammering uncomfortably in his chest. The sound of his own fiercely-pumping blood filled his ears. The ever-present rain continued to rage beyond the windows, punctuated by periodic flashes of white light and accompanying explosions of thunder. He rose very slowly from his seat, fixing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, then he trekked off down the corridor, keeping his footsteps as light as possible. It was difficult to see; his main light source was the sporadic forks of lightning that curled across the black skyline.
Deeper into the derelict building he went, glancing warily into every cubicle he passed.
Probably a rat, he thought. Please be a rat…
At the very end of the row he came to a halt and breathed a sigh of relief that he never heard over the bluster outside. Having seen nothing, he turned to leave — and then out of nowhere something large and heavy leapt up out of the shadows and barreled into him, pulling at his hair and clawing at his chest. He yelled in complete panic, whirling around furiously as he tried with all his might to dislodge the attacker. He succeeded at last, hurling it into one of the desks across the room. It collided with the dark wood with a whimper, then it scrabbled out of the mess and streaked off down the corridor.
A furious fight suddenly ensued in Tim’s mind: he stood hesitant for a moment, torn between a powerful curiosity and a vicious instinct to run. The battle lasted all of two seconds and a clear victor emerged.
He followed, the corridor briefly illuminated by the whirling blue energy encircling his body. When he entered the room his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness, then he spotted his attacker. It was a boy of about his own age, cowering in the corner. Or at least it bore some resemblance to a boy. The creature in front of him had reddish brown skin, like the colour of mud, with bright, golden eyes that shone like a cat’s in the dark, and sharp, jagged teeth. He wore nothing but a loincloth that seemed to be woven from dried leaves, and his body was dappled with strange markings, like tribal tattoos. A small part of Tim felt almost sorry for him, until he remembered that the person responsible for the ruthless storm that had destroyed half this city looked even younger and more innocent than he did.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“What do you want?” the boy demanded. He was holding a hand out towards him, still shrinking against the wall as if Tim was brandishing a weapon against him. “I don’t want any trouble, just take what you want and go!”
Now he knew how Jon must have felt seeing the doctor. It was deeply unsettling, the way his eyes registered what was clearly a monster, yet his ears heard only a scared and desperate child.
“How old are you?” Tim asked.
The boy bared his teeth. “Why do you care?”
“I… just curious, I guess,” Tim said with a shrug. He took a single step forward and the boy retreated even farther into his corner, curling into a fetal position. “I’m not going to hurt you, you know. If anything I’m the one who should be scared of you, you almost gouged my eyes out.”
“Maybe you’ll think twice about sneaking up on people in the future!” he spat.
“I thought this place was deserted,” Tim said defensively. “I just wanted some shelter from the storm, I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”
The boy’s eyes were still tense, but his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.
“I take it you were doing the same?”
The boy nodded. “I was waiting for a message, but this storm is disrupting the magic in the city. It’s hard to sense what’s going on outside.”
“So the storm is magical,” Tim said, more to himself than his interlocutor. Though he had guessed it was nice to have actual confirmation.
The boy scoffed. “You mean you couldn’t tell? Makes sense if you couldn’t even sense me. Some god you are.”
“Hold on,” said Tim, taken aback. “You know what I am?”
“Please. Storm or no storm I could smell you a mile away. You have an aura. It’s pungent. Raw. Like rotting flesh. And there’s a lot of it around too.”
“A lot of…” Tim’s eyes widened. “You mean like other gods? More of them?”
“Too many if you ask me,” he said viciously, but Tim didn’t care. His heart lifted, higher than the floodwaters engulfing half the city. He was about to ask whether the boy, whatever his name was, could point him in the direction of that pungent aroma, but then another distinct rumbling noise crossed the air. It was so loud that they had no trouble hearing it over the roar of the storm beyond the walls, and it came from down the hall.
Both Tim and his mysterious guest whipped their heads around and stared into the dark, gloomy hall.
“Can you tell what made that noise?”
“I might have an idea,” the boy said, his voice quivering. “But the storm is interfering with my senses. I could smell you because the magic around you is so strong, but less powerful creatures are harder to detect.”
“Stay here, I’ll check it out.”
“Are you insane?” the boy said incredulously, reminding him forcefully of his earlier interaction with Lauren.
Before Tim could respond the thing in the shadows let out another earth-shaking rumble. Then without any warning, one of the desks in the cubicles beyond was wrenched out of its port and came hurtling towards them. They ducked just as the table exploded in a shower of rotted wood behind them. Tim scrabbled to his feet and gazed down the hall, just in time to see three huge worm-like creatures slithering down the hall. Each was as thick as a tree trunk, with huge, gaping maws encircled by razor sharp teeth and small, beady red eyes.
Beside him the boy leapt to his feet, screaming in terror. Tim grabbed hold of his arm, stifling a sudden, unbidden surge of revulsion at how slimy his skin felt, and streaked off down the other end of the corridor. Tim could hear him yelling incoherently beside him as he raced the length of the hallway, through the door at the end, down the rickety staircase, and into the parking lot outside.
“Wawasat?” the boy garbled.
“Huh?”
The other boy shook his head violently, then said, “What was that? How did you — we were just inside —”
“Oh. Uh — well, you could tell I was a god, right? I’m the God of Speed, actually. Moving fast is kind of in the job description.”
A confused look dawned in the golden eyes. “God of Speed? I’ve never heard of one of those before.”
Tim’s eyebrows drew together. “Really? Never?”
“Never,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “In my culture, history is passed down through word of mouth. There are stories about everything. And I’ve done a lot of research on the surface world too. I’ve read about gods of earth, gods of night, of water, even formless concepts like love and war. Never once have I seen any mention of a God of Speed.”
Tim gaped at him, wondering how true his statement was. Was he really the first of his kind, or were the others simply so obscure they had never made it into the history books?
“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” the boy said, jolting him back to the present conversation. “You didn’t have to, but you did… So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, um…”
“Akna. That was the name my parents gave to me.”
“Nice to meet you, Akna. My name’s Tim.”
Akna cocked his head to the side. “That’s a very odd name for a god.”
“That was the name my mortal parents gave to me. It’s a very long story,” he added, as the look of confusion on his face deepened. “My birth name is Lenos. But I prefer Tim. It’s simple. I like simple.”
“Nice to meet you as well, Tim. But I don’t think you brought us far enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Those were sandcrawlers. Large, aggressive, and extremely fast. They also have excellent senses of smell too.” Akna pointed behind them.
To Tim’s horror, he saw something coming towards them, burrowing under the earth.
“And they move even faster underground. Impressive that they managed to track me here, even with the storm.”
“Wait, they’re after you?” said Tim, who had wholeheartedly believed he was the result of this sudden peril.
Akna nodded. “Sandcrawlers were one of the main reasons my family had to flee our home. We’ve been traveling for years and we ended up taking refuge here, but then the storm blew in and we were separated. The response I was waiting for was from them. But the sandcrawlers found me first.”
The way he spoke was deadpan, resigned, as if he already knew and accepted his fate. Tim couldn’t accept that. He wouldn’t accept that.
“Do you have a weapon?” he asked urgently.
“You’re mad,” said Akna, but at the same time his hand moved up to a sheath at his waist and he withdrew a large dagger that seemed to be made from bone. “You don’t actually intend to fight them?”
“If they tracked you all the way into the city in this storm, then running isn’t going to help, is it?” Tim pulled off his glasses. The scene in front of him immediately became blurred and fuzzy. He could make out the basic outlines of what was ahead of him, but the details eluded him. Why on earth Sytris chose to make the one thing vital for his daily activities his choice of weapon would never make sense to him.
“Lenos,” he said loudly and clearly. Red light shone through the parking lot. A second later his great hammer materialized in his hand.
“What is that?” Akna said, gaping at it.
“It’s called Brightsteel. And you’re about to see what it can do.”
The sandcrawlers had arrived, erupting from the parking lot floor as easily as one would surface from a swimming pool. It was more difficult to make out the features of their faces now, but the noises they were making still sent chills down his spine. They were like a horrible amalgamation of crickets, cicadas and snakes.
“I hope you know how to use that,” Tim said, indicating Akna’s knife.
“About as well as you know how to use that hammer.”
Tim grinned. “So no clue then?”
With an awful, ear-grating shriek, the first Sandcrawler came forward. Its speed was unbelievable for a monster of its size, and Tim, who sped away from the scene just in time, saw that its strength was almost as fearsome as it smashed itself into the ground, leaving behind a massive crater. It didn’t stop moving: its entire body disappeared into the hole, then it resurfaced a few feet to his left. There was something oozing from its maw now, a dark viscous liquid.
“Acid!” Akna’s voice yelled out. “Don’t let it hit you!”
The sandcrawler fired a jet of that same dark liquid at him. Again Tim bolted out of the way, coming to a halt behind the Sandcrawler. The vat of acid that had flown at him collided with the wall; there was a loud sizzling noise, and in mere moments a hole large enough to hold several people had melted into the stone. There was a cry of pain somewhere to to his right and he wheeled around to see Akna desperately dodging great dollops of acid from another of the creatures.
Just as he took off to help, a terrible realization struck Tim like a physical blow. Between the one he had just narrowly dodged, and the one that Akna was frantically trying to evade, only two of the three sandcrawlers were accounted for.
Panic flaring through him, he jerked his head wildly around in search of the third. There was no sign of it, but another great cavern lay in front of them. It’s underground.
The second crawler took advantage of his preoccupation, slithering towards him like a slimy bullet train. Tim sidestepped it once more, but the creature seemed to have prepared for that. The instant he ducked out of the way, it lashed out with its lower half, smacking him into the wall with a loud thud. Tim fell face-first onto the cold, damp earth, then the sandcrawler lunged at him like a snake rearing from long grass. He tried to dodge again but it was in vain. The creature was upon him before he could recover from the impact, thrusting him further into the wall before clamping its jaws around his right arm.
He felt the serrated fangs pierce his skin, bringing with it the pain of a thousand needles. A cloud of the monster’s putrid breath wafted into his face, so acrid that his eyes began to water.
Tim pummeled at its slimy, rubbery face with his free left hand, trying to free himself. With one sharp, well-aimed punch, he managed to land a blow directly in the creature’s eye. It recoiled with a hiss of anguish, thrashing around furiously.
Tim looked down and, vision still blurry, saw that his right arm was bloody and mangled.
The sandcrawler was still lashing out in fury. Tim’s hammer, which had fallen from his grip moments before, was lying a few feet away. He jumped and turned his landing into a roll just as the crawler lurched forward again, smashing its head into the wall where he had just been standing. As it doubled back for another attack, Tim scooped the hammer into his left hand and swung it as fast and as hard as he could, right into its face.
There was a deafening crack and its huge body soared sideways. It landed with a heavy crash, rattling the floor as it collapsed. Fragments of its broken fangs spilled from its mouth, from which more ooze was leaking. It moved no more.
Tim turned and saw Akna, slicing and stabbing at the face of his own sandcrawler. The blade seemed to be glancing harmlessly off its skin, accomplishing nothing except perhaps making it even angrier.
It opened its mouth wide and Tim, who could tell what was coming next, bolted towards him, heaving him out of the danger zone just as a fountain of acid dissolved the floor where Akna had been standing. He didn’t drag him away from the creature though; struck by a sudden idea, Tim moved closer to where it stood and with all the strength he could muster, launched Akna upwards so that he landed on its head.
“Aim for the eye!” he yelled.
Akna’s disorientation lasted only a few seconds. Holding on for dear life, he edged his way down to the creature’s face as the sandcrawler, incensed, tried to throw him off. It was over in a few breathless seconds. Akna lost his footing and stumbled, but reoriented himself just in time to jab the dagger right into the creature’s exposed eye, which exploded in white slime. Just like its brother, it writhed in pure agony, finally succeeding in tossing Akna to the ground.
It was Tim’s turn to mount it. Crackling with blue energy, he raced right up to it and leapt onto its crown, bringing his hammer firmly down on top of its head. The impact thrust its head so fiercely into the ground that the parking lot quivered once more, but like its ally, it fell immobile.
But they had no time to celebrate their victory. Down below the earth was rumbling again, and like some kind of monstrous drill the third sandcrawler bore its way to the surface.
Tim never noticed before, but this one was much larger than the other two, and boasted a set of adornments that they did not. Its body was much sleeker, with two rows of golden spikes trailing down its length. A set of ornate golden horns extended from its head, intricately twisting together to form some kind of crown, and its eyes glowed bright, poisonous green. It looked less wormlike than the other two, more like a vast, wingless dragon, terrible yet regal.
“A King Crawler,” Akna said, and there was no fear in his voice now. He sounded awed. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one before.”
The King was much faster than its allies, so much so that even at his top speed Tim only barely reached Akna in time to stop him from being flattened. He had dive-tackled Akna out of the line of fire, but before they could even stand up it was upon them again, its spiked tail swinging down upon them like a canary-coloured wrecking ball. Again Tim tried to flee but he was nowhere near fast enough. The tail grazed his shoulder, but that wasn’t all: small spikes had broken off of the tail, embedding themselves in his arm, leaving the skin where they had made contact inflamed.
“I think this one’s going to be a problem,” Tim said, yanking the spikes out.
“He’s a king for a reason,” Akna said, still looking at the monster with something close to reverence. “Distract it, I’m going to try something.”
Distracting it proved itself to be a tall order. The King was so fast that Tim was having difficulty keeping up. Almost every time it lunged it hit him in some way, snags of the tail, lashes of its spikes, grazes of the fang. Tim could feel himself slowing down, wearing out. If he had to guess, the King had some kind of toxin at his disposal, and every nip he landed injected some portion of it into his bloodstream. Whatever Akna was planning to do, he hoped he did it quickly.
Its huge, green eyes burned with rage and it flew at him yet again. Tim didn’t try to dodge. He waited in place, then just as the King’s draconic maw was within reach he launched a fierce blow with his hammer. It connected, though this didn’t have the same effect on it as it had with the other two.
Far from gravely injuring it, the King merely shook off the blow, doubling back with murderous rage shining in his eyes.
It tried to snap at him, but for some reason it could no longer reach him. Tim backed up several steps, then saw the cause. The ground below the sandcrawler had turned to what looked like a vat of black quicksand, immobilizing it. He turned around and saw Akna, holding both hands out towards the King, whose body was sinking deeper and deeper into the puddle, almost completely paralyzed.
“How did you do that?” Tim asked, gazing up at the crawler in wonder.
“Nevermind that, it’s not going to hold him for long. Hit him, hard.”
“Right, right.” Tim grabbed his hammer and took off, leaping up onto the sections of the King’s body that were still exposed, making his way up to its head. Its eyes followed his every movement, but it had sunk so deep now that it could barely turn its head. “Sorry about this, Your Highness.” He twirled the hammer between his fingers, then he brought it down as hard as he could.
The King’s crown shattered; fragments of gold clattered onto the pavement as its entire body was submerged into the dark pit with a roar of mingled rage and distress. Tim leapt off its head just in time, landing beside a particularly large shard. He picked it up and examined it.
“Pretty cool souvenir.”
Akna finally released his pose, then looked up at him, breathing hard but smiling. “Good work.”
“Likewise. Is it dead?”
“Most likely not. The Kings are a lot harder to kill than the ordinary sandcrawlers. But this should weaken him.”
“Figures. How’d you do that, by the way?”
“My people are called the Children of Gaia, the Earth Mother. With her blessing, we have some power over her domain. It’s why we live mostly underground or in caves, where our connection to her is strongest. The sandcrawlers are not the only threats we face, but they are among the worst. Thank you for your assistance.” He held out his hand. Tim took it in his own and smiled.
“And I suppose now is as good a time as any to return the favour. When you asked earlier if I could sense other gods in the area — were you referring to friends of yours?”
“Family actually. My siblings.”
“Well, I will still have to wait for a response from my own kin. But I see no reason for you not to be reunited with your own. The auras I detected, they’re due north. Not very far from here, in fact.”
A feeling of intense relief swept through him. Before Tim could even speak, however, he noticed something. The rain was easing up. Amazed, he walked to the edge of the parking lot. The downpour steadily slowed to a drizzle, then halted completely. Before his very eyes the dense canopy of black clouds parted and the first rays of sunshine the city had seen in days broke through.
“It finally stopped,” Tim said, smiling even more widely.
“Then I suppose this is where we part ways,” said Akna, who had come to join him. Tim turned to look at him. “I do hope you find your family.”
“Me too.”
“Then I bid you farewell, Tim. I suppose now I have a story of my own to pass down. The tale of how I met the first God of Speed. Or perhaps, if not the first, then the first that history shall remember.”
Tim grinned and they shook hands again. Then he took off, streaking through the ruined city like a bullet. He was determined to get back to Lauren as quickly as possible. If the storm had stopped, there was a chance the others might start moving again. With so many of the roads blocked it took him nearly an hour to get back to the mansion, and when he did he found Lauren pacing back and forth gain, biting her fingernail.
“There you are, I’ve been waiting for — oh my God! What happened to you?” She looked horrified as she finally took in his appearance: arm still bloody but slowly healing, face bruised and clothing torn and coated in monster blood.
“I’ll explain later. I’ve got news: the storm finally stopped and I think I know where everyone else is. Well, more like a vague sense of direction. But we have to go now, before they start moving again.” He saw the somber expression on Lauren’s face and his own smile faltered. “This is good news. I thought you’d be happy.”
“It's not that. While you were gone, I managed to get a breakthrough,” Lauren said, her voice quivering. “I saw a recent memory, of Sytris’s.”
“O-okay,” Tim said, still confused. “That’s good right? That means he’s okay.”
Lauren took a deep, shaky breath. “No, it isn’t good. Because the memory ended… It ended…” A single tear rolled from Lauren’s eye. “It ended with Erymithia taking his head off with her scythe.”