15 - Encounter
The room Ward stepped into was starkly different from the one he’d left. It was so distinct that he began to wonder if the archway had teleported him somehow. He wasn’t sure, though, because he still felt Haley’s hand in his as he stepped into the new space.
They stood atop a grand, curved walkway carved from dark gray stone—basalt or granite, if Ward were guessing. It swept downward with a steep grade, veering off to his left and curving toward a distant stone square surrounded by shimmering silver-blue water. It felt like the platform they stood on was hundreds of feet in the air, but Ward couldn’t see the walls or the ceiling. They were either impossibly distant or hidden by the catacombs’ ability to manipulate light.
“All I can see are the walkway and the stone platform below.” Haley walked toward the edge, looking down. Ward moved close, worried she’d get vertigo and fall over.
“Easy. Let’s lose some altitude.” Something itched in his gut, and Ward reached up to pull his .357 out of its holster.
“A pistol?” Nevkin chuckled, drawing a short, thin, flexible sword from the hard wooden sheath he had strapped to his pack. Ward had seen it but thought it was a walking stick. “Rather crude, don’t you think?”
“You think a pistol is crude?”
“All that black smoke . . .” Haley nodded to Nevkin, wrinkling her nose at Ward. He was going to protest but figured it didn’t matter—these kids didn’t need to know what he was packing.
He grunted and shrugged. “What about you?”
“Me? I’m a Gopah red adept.”
“Excuse you?” Ward stared at her, face blank.
“Gopah? The art of the fire fist?”
Ward narrowed his eyes, but then he remembered they were in a world of magic. “Is that why your hands are so hot?”
She ducked her head, blushing, and softly muttered, “Yes.”
“Fair enough.” Ward started down the sloping stone walkway, taking his time, testing his footing, ensuring he didn’t slip; there wasn’t any railing to save him from missteps. While they made slow, steady progress down, he asked, over his shoulder, “Is red adept high? In my world, we have different colored belts for martial arts, and usually black belt is the highest.”
Nevkin spoke up for Haley, “A red adept has mastered six of the eleven Gopah forms. A black adept has mastered nine. If you’re unfamiliar with Gopah, you should know that Haley has accomplished a tremendous feat by reaching the red adept level at her age.”
“Well, shit. Nice going, Haley!”
“Thank you.” She still sounded down, and Ward couldn’t blame her. He’d have a hard time getting over the death of a brother, especially with only an hour or so having passed.
Trying to help her take her mind off her loss, he asked, “If a black adept isn’t the best, what do you call those who’ve mastered all eleven forms?”
Nevkin started to answer, but Haley cut him off, “One with ten forms mastered is a sky adept, and one with eleven is a soul adept. The sky encompasses all colors, and the soul encompasses all existence.”
“That’s . . . poetic. I like the idea, Haley.” Ward was trying hard to be encouraging, but he supposed he really did like the sound of it. They walked in silence for a couple more minutes, then rounded the last curve, and the stone platform was before them, only a dozen yards or so further on. At this level, Ward could plainly see the weird silvery-blue water, and he paused to marvel at how it shimmered with color, almost like gasoline in sunlight. “What the hell is that liquid?”
“Looks like pearl water.” Nevkin stretched an arm down over the side of the walkway and dipped the tip of his little sword into it. When he lifted it out, the silvery water ran slowly down the blade, thick as syrup. “Yep, pearl water.”
“So, you both know I’m not from here. What’s pearl water?”
Nevkin shook his sword over the water, sending most of the liquid coating it to splash down into the pool. “A naturally occurring liquid found deep in the ground here on Cinder. It’s very flammable and a potent catalyst in alchemical mixtures.”
“We should take some. I have a spare bottle,” Haley added.
“All right. Let’s check out this platform first.” Ward started forward, scanning the big stone square ahead for anything noteworthy. Now that they were closer, he could see it wasn’t one cohesive piece of stone but thousands of blocks nearly seamlessly fit together. The platform was almost level with the darkness-shrouded pool; if it were a quarter-inch lower, it would be flooded. Looking out over that water, Ward once again felt frustrated by the use of light and shadow to, quite literally, keep them in the dark. He could only see the first ten feet of shimmering, silver-blue liquid in any direction.
Haley stepped onto the platform with him and gestured toward the walkway they’d just descended. “Where are we supposed to go from here? I don’t see other walkways.”
“No, I imagine another challenge is here.” Nevkin pushed past her and walked further onto the platform, eyes down, studying the stone blocks. Rather than walk to the middle like Nevkin, Ward turned to the left and scrutinized the perimeter.
“Either of you have any of those, um, glow stones, like the one that girl dropped into the pit?”
“I have a few.” Haley looked at Ward, then at the water, then back to him. “Why? You don’t want to drop one in the pearl water!”
“Oh? They can spark it?”
“The mana that makes them glow is volatile. It could react with the pearl water. It’s a catalyst, remember?” Nevkin pushed his glasses up while he spoke, and Ward had to fight the urge to say something snarky to him.
“I was wondering what’s behind all these shadows. Wish I had my flashlight.” Ward took his pack off and dug around, looking for the crank lantern he’d taken from the scavs. He was looking at it, fiddling with the crank, trying to unstick it from the little clip holding it in place, when he heard a soft splash and a slap, like someone hopping out of a pool.
For some reason, it didn’t register in his mind as anything to worry about; it was an almost innocuous sound, and he figured Nevkin or Haley were somehow messing around with the water. For that reason, he was holding his pistol awkwardly, cranking the little brass lever on the lamp, when Haley screamed.
The sound startled Ward into dropping the lamp, and it bounced off the top of his pack to clatter on the stone, one glass panel shattering on impact. He felt irritated rather than alarmed when he looked up. Expecting to see Haley had fallen into the water or something, he was almost dumbstruck when he saw something like a humanoid, blue and yellow frog grasping her hair, dragging her backward toward the pearl water. “Boggert!” Nevkin wailed, spinning away from Haley’s plight to scan the water.
Ward was a little stunned by the appearance of a five-foot-tall, upright frog man, dazed by the weird, shimmering nature of its flesh and its bulging neon-yellow eyes. He snapped out of it when Haley screamed again, struggling to reach back and slap the thing’s webbed fingers from where they were entwined in her short black hair.
Suddenly, his nerves settled, and he lifted his pistol and embraced that familiar cool detachment he always felt in a crisis. Ward didn’t need to aim to hit a target ten feet away. He pointed and squeezed the trigger in one smooth, fluid motion and, with a thunderous, echoing retort, sent a .357 hollow-point into the bulging, throbbing blue and yellow neck of the frog monster.
The frog man, or boggert, if that’s what they were called, croaked resoundingly, spraying green-yellow blood or bile out of its wide mouth, and fell to the stone, flopping and thrashing as it slapped its webbed hands against the hole in its neck. With a wail of horrified disgust, Haley rolled away from it and back onto her feet. Ward turned to frown at Nevkin, ready to chew the kid out for turning his back on Haley’s trouble, but then he heard bubbling and splashing, and suddenly, the platform was awash with the shimmering pearl water as a dozen or more of the boggerts burst out of the liquid.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Get to the center!” Ward barked. “Back-to-back!” He led by example, hurrying away from the edge and toward the middle of the platform, shoving Haley into motion as he passed by. He was almost too slow—the boggerts were quick. They charged forward, webbed hands raised, needle-sharp claws extended.
The three of them just barely got to the center and faced outward, and then the creatures were on them, leaping, clawing, and burbling their weird language or growls—Ward had no idea how intelligent they were. Their claws were transparent keratin, deceptively long and terribly sharp, and they left long, painful gashes as they tore through Ward’s sleeves and pantlegs.
Even under such pressure—surrounded, painfully gashed, and bleeding, Ward kept his cool and began to take aim, squeezing the trigger once, twice, three times, spraying hot, green-yellow boggert blood all over the platform, sending his assailants flopping to the stones. With no more before him, Ward whirled to see Haley smash a fist into a boggert’s bulbous throat.
Sparks flew from the impact, and with a whoosh, the frog man burst into flames, hooting and burping as it fell to the ground. Ward saw the little pools of pearl water on the platform burst into flames as the dying boggert rolled through them, and he wondered what would happen if it rolled all the way into the larger pool.
Rather than find out, he stepped forward and smashed his leather shoe into the center of its back, holding it still while it thrashed and died. It only took a few seconds for the flames to die, or he might have caught his pants on fire for his trouble. Even so, he backed away, slapping at his pantleg as he watched Nevkin fend off several boggerts, whipping his sharp, flexible little blade in quick sweeps and stabs. The creatures were bleeding from several slashes and stabs, but so was Nevkin; his poncho was ripped and bloody, especially on his right shoulder.
Ward lifted his pistol, taking aim at another boggert pressuring Haley, but he got distracted, watching her do something that looked very much like dancing. She stepped in a rhythmic pattern, weaving her hands in odd loops and thrusts, and as she did so, he saw the air around her fists grow wavy with heat. “What the hell?” he wondered as he pointed his gun at one of the boggerts and squeezed off his fifth bullet.
The bullet tore through its head, sending it flopping backward, and the explosion startled the other boggert, distracting it just in time for Haley to drive a sparking, red-hot fist into its ribs, shattering bones with a loud crunch. It fell, gasping, and Ward sheathed his pistol—time to get his hands dirty. It wasn’t that he couldn’t have shot more of the monsters, but one was down, and only three remained, pressuring Nevkin; why waste the bullets? Ward yanked his big knife out of its sheath and edged around Nevkin, taking the frogs’ flank.
They were intent on Nevkin, perhaps enraged by the many minor wounds he’d given them. Ward had no trouble getting behind, where he picked the leftmost boggert, leaped forward, and drove his eight-inch knife into the center of its back. He grunted savagely, yanking the knife out, stabbing it home again, and smashing the creature to the ground. Unfortunately, stabbing so savagely brought him down with momentum, and he felt the sting of four more gashes on his back as one of the surviving boggerts clawed him. Ward rolled over his left shoulder, following through in a somersault onto his feet. He spun just in time to see Nevkin thrust his narrow blade up, through a boggert throat, and, likely, all the way into its brain.
Haley was doing her weird dance again, and Ward could see her fists begin to glow as they emitted waves of shimmering heat. With Nevkin distracting the last creature, she effortlessly danced forward and drove her fist into its lower back, eliciting a dreadful croak and sparking the monster alight just like the first one she’d punched. As it wailed, thrashed, and swung its arms wildly, Nevkin drove his rapier forward, ending its death throes.
“Holy shit!” Ward laughed, wiping his knife on his pant leg before sheathing it. He yanked his gun out of its holster and began reloading it. After he’d reholstered it, he took stock of the bullets in his pocket—only seven live ones left. “Dammit, but these gashes sting. Those little bastards had sharp claws.”
While he’d been reloading, Haley had slipped her backpack off and was digging around inside. “I have some salve that will help.”
“I’ll be fine. I have my own.” Nevkin, too, was going through his little round backpack.
“Yeah, I don’t. Probably would’ve been a good thing to pick up before coming in here.” Ward chuckled at himself, shaking his head. “I don’t think I realized ‘challenge’ and ‘catacombs’ meant fighting damn frogmen.”
Nevkin scoffed. “Do they know so little of the challenges in your world?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s how I’d put it.” Ward chose a relatively clean spot on the stone ground and sat, feeling a little woozy. While he watched Haley and Nevkin work on their own wounds, he had to blink and do a double-take when he realized Grace was standing beside him.
“I don’t think either of these two can see me. I don’t see so much as a glimmer of a shine in their eyes. Isn’t it interesting how your friend there could ignite her fists? It has to be different from what a, um, sorcerer can do.” It wasn’t lost on Ward that she’d used Lisa’s term. She squatted in front of Ward and frowned when he ignored her. He didn’t care; he wasn’t going to let her make him look like a lunatic. “Are you okay? Those creatures were filthy, and their claws were deceptively long.”
“I think I’ll live.”
“Good—” Grace started to say, but Haley spoke over her, unknowingly.
“You will. You should still take some of my salve because those boggerts are known to carry disease.”
“Thanks.” Ward leaned his head between his knees and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt like he was getting a headache.
“Shit, Ward!” Grace leaned close and pressed a hand to the back of his neck. “You’re burning up! Your shirt’s soaked in blood, more red than white. Did you even buy a clean change of clothes before coming in here?”
“Maybe if you—” Ward was about to start complaining about how little Grace had spoken to him while he’d been in Tarnish, but then he remembered two near-strangers were also listening to him. He altered course. “Uh, maybe I could get you to put some of that on my back? I feel like the claws got me the deepest there.”
“Of course. It’s the least I can do; you killed the lion's share of those filthy creatures. Almost done here.”
“I know what you’re thinking; I should have spoken to you more, helped you prepare more. I’m sorry, Ward. I’m not used to being in a world where there are people powerful enough to see me, to . . . threaten me.” Ward, head still between his knees, eyes pointed down, could just see Grace’s bare foot beside him, so he reached out and patted it rather than answer her. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
Ward grunted. In truth, he was just trying to get her to shut up. He was trying to rest his eyes and fend off his budding headache. He heard Haley stand up and approach, but then Nevkin cried out, “Look!”
Ward popped his eyes open and jerked his head up, reaching for his pistol. His alarm was for naught; Nevkin pointed away from the platform to a set of round stepping stones that seemed to have risen out of the shimmering water. They led away, tiny islands of illumination in the clinging darkness, toward a distant wall and another platform where a copper door awaited them. “Does this mean we passed this challenge? I think I see something on the platform!”
“Wait, Nevkin!” Haley patted Ward’s shoulder. “Let me get some of this salve on Ward’s wounds.” She tugged at the strap of his shoulder holster. “Can you take this off?” Ward nodded and loosened the holster, shrugging it off, then he grunted and reached up to unbutton his shirt. He winced as he had to peel it off. The blood-soaked material stuck to his wounds.
“Known her for a couple of hours, and she’s already got you taking your clothes off?” Grace paced in front of him, watching Haley’s every move. He wondered if she was jealous or worried or both, but something was going on with her.
“I see something there!” Nevkin edged closer to the first of the new, circular stepping stones.
Ward looked up with a scowl. “If you step out there ahead of us, I’ll shoot you.”
Nevkin whirled, narrowing his eyes at Ward, his tattooed head growing red as he flushed with either anger or embarrassment. “You dare threaten me?”
“Look, kid, I just don’t want me and Haley to get killed ‘cause you activate some kind of timer. Just be still a minute. Ahh—” Ward winced, lifting his shoulders involuntarily as Haley put some salve on the deep claw marks on his back. It stung at first but almost immediately made his flesh numb. Nevkin didn’t reply but continued to pace, and Ward could see the storm clouds in his scowl.
“Boy, that made him angry!” Grace laughed. Ward ignored her.
“That’s feeling a lot better, Haley.”
“Well, you’re healing quickly. These cuts seem uninfected, and you’ve developed some tough scabs. Your body is strong—must be the mana. I wish I could work with it.”
“Well, how the hell do you make your fists so hot?”
“It’s the art. Gopah. The movements speak to the ambient mana, focusing it into the styles.”
“Fascinating!” Grace interjected. “It’s like the movements are visual, nay, physical words of power!”
“Pretty neat stuff, Haley.”
“Thank you. You’re looking good; I think I got all the deep ones.”
“I’m feeling a lot better already, thanks.” Ward grunted as he clambered to his feet and began shrugging into his ripped, bloody shirt. “Almost ready, Nev. Thanks for waiting.”
“Don’t call me that. It’s my old master’s pet name for me, and I don’t like it.”
“Understood,” Ward chuckled, shaking his head. He shrugged into his shoulder holster and, looking to see Haley was following, started for the first stepping stone. “We ready?”
“Onward, at last!” Nevkin said, hopping across the short distance to the stone. Ward winced, expecting to see it sink or tip or something else equally disastrous. Nevkin’s luck held, though, and he landed solidly. “I’ll jump to the next, then one of you follow. We’ll just take one at a time, quickly, okay?”
“Yep, hustle.” Ward turned to Haley. “You’re next.”
“Okay.” She nodded, face serious, and hopped to the stone as Nevkin advanced.
Ward was just getting ready to jump when Nevkin cried out, his voice cracking as it rose an octave, “It’s a chest! There’s a chest by the door!”