SoulQuest (12 page)

It was a werewolf, eerily similar to the ones he’d encountered on Rolyeh. Somehow they must have escaped the island and managed to track him down. “Guys, I could use some help here,” he said. The only response he got was the snarling of the werewolf and the sobs of the child. He did a quick glance to take in his surroundings, but he couldn’t see any sign of Ekala or Tanus.

“Guys!”

The werewolf lunged for him. Zarim jumped back, pulling the child with him. He swung his blade, but the wolf slapped it away, sparks flying as if his claws were made of flint. Zarim thrust and the werewolf evaded, moving nimbly around his blade. The pirate pivoted on his left foot, his right leg flying up in a roundhouse kick that connected hard with the werewolf’s chest, knocking the beast on its back.

He gathered up the boy in his arm. “Come on, we have to get out of here!” Zarim broke into a sprint, moving quickly between the trees. He glanced over his shoulder every few steps to clarify his pursuer’s position. Every time he did this, however, the entire landscape seemed to change. Zarim had mapped out a path based on what he could see, but when he looked again, that path was gone. The position and locations of the trees had somehow shifted in that brief instant.
 

“There was a path just ahead...” He looked down at the boy. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

The boy just buried his face in Zarim’s chest.
 

“Gotta find a way out...has to be something...”

Zarim felt hot breath on the back of his neck accompanied by the guttural, beastly growl of the pursuing werewolf. Zarim jumped, the wolf’s claws tearing at his hood. He jumped again, to the side, and this just as the werewolf lunged, so that the snarling, spitting fiend rolled past, clawing at the earth, tearing up plants, and snapping saplings in half as he missed his prey. This bought Zarim just a few moments, and he brought the boy to the bole of a sturdy tree.
 

“Need you to climb this tree, okay?”

The boy shook his head. “No, I can’t, please!”

“Don’t got a choice here, buddy,” said Zarim. “Just trust me, okay? I need both hands to deal with this guy.”

The boy slowly nodded and reached out, his tiny hands gripping one of the branches. Zarim helped him to move up slowly, but the wolf had ceased catapulting through the thickets, and had regained his footing among a pile of broken saplings. The wolf stared at them with baleful, lambent eyes and snarled. “Okay pal, start climbing now, and don’t come down until I say so!”

The boy pulled himself up to a large branch, continuing to move higher. He settled onto a spot some distance from the ground, staring at the battle below. And he smiled.

Once the boy was safe, Zarim turned in time to see the wolf hurtling toward him. He ducked a split-second before the wolf embedded its claws into the bark. Zarim threw his shoulder into the hairy chest of the beast, and the two tumbled, with Zarim ending up on top. The werewolf’s head came down hard upon the broken bole of a tree, temporarily stunning it, and so Zarim was able to move away without being slashed to bits by those great, flinty claws. He drew his gun, taking aim at the wolf. The wolf paused, staring at Zarim with beady red eyes, saliva dripping from its monstrous jaw. Zarim’s finger strained against the trigger and just before he pulled it back, the gun was blown from his hand.

Zarim spun to see the source. Another wolf, this one with a glowing hand. Zarim did a double-take at this. Since when were werewolves capable of magic? Another blast fired, this one going right past Zarim and hitting a tree. Regardless of how the werewolf could use magic, it was certainly a terrible shot.

And then another thought crossed Zarim’s mind. What if the shot wasn’t intended for him? What if it were a warning shot? But what would these creatures be warning him against? And why attack him in the first place if that’s what was happening? Zarim grew light-headed, and he was having difficulty concentrating. It felt as though he were waking up from a drunken stupor. He even had a headache to match.
 

The first wolf who attacked him was now right in front of him. She had her claws—or were they hands?—on his shoulders and began shaking him. Wait...she? How did Zarim know it was a she? The wolf’s visage blurred, shifting in and out of focus, but slowly was replaced with the face of another. A face that he’d grown very accustomed to waking up beside every morning.

“—Zee! Snap out of it!”

Zarim blinked several times and there was no mistaking who he faced. “Ekala? But what about...?”

He spun towards the other wolf, but only saw Tanus, his gun-arm still trained on Zarim. The sky-pirate looked back and forth at his partners, unsure of what exactly had just transpired. “Wait...where were you guys? What happened to the werewolves?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Tanus. “One minute you’re talking to yourself, the next you’re trying to stab your woman.”

“Stab...?”

Ekala held up her boomerangs, which were scuffed up. “Fortunately, I’m a better fighter than you.”

Zarim scowled. “Let’s not get crazy here. But wait...you said I was talking to myself?”

“Yeah, all of a sudden you just stopped and started talking. It was like you found someone or something.”

Zarim struggled to remember. “There...there was a boy. I saw him in the forest, and I was trying to help him...that’s when—”

“I think you were taken in by an illusion,” said Tanus.
 

“What kind of illusion?” asked Ekala.

“The kind faeries are known for,” said Tanus. “They know we’re here.”

“But the boy...he was so real...”

“Forget about it and let’s get back to the trail.” Ekala looked around the area, and just like Zarim before, she found she didn’t recognize anything. “Umm, does anyone remember where the trail was?”

“What are you talking about, it’s right...” Tanus trailed off as he searched his mind and came to the same realization as Ekala. “It’s gone.”

There came a whistle from above. The three looked towards it and saw a child smiling down at them. Zarim moved forward and jabbed a finger in the youth’s direction. “That’s him! That’s the kid I was telling you about! You can see him, can’t you?”

“Yeah...I can.” Tanus’ arm shot up and he fired several pulses from his weapon. The boy jumped away from them, swinging from the branches and moving from tree to tree with the same ease as a monkey might demonstrate.

“What are you doing?” asked Zarim. “He’s just a boy!”

“That’s no boy,” said Tanus. “Not anymore.”

“Huh?” asked Ekala.

“He’s a foundling.”

The foundling landed before them in a crouch. He stood and smiled at them. But when he opened his eyes, they were pitch-black, like windows to a void in his skull. “You shouldn’t have come. They won’t be pleased that you’ve come. Children are welcome here, but not the big people.”

“Okay, this is starting to get weird...” said Ekala.

The foundling began chuckling. And his laughter grew louder, until it surrounded them completely. Every tree in the forest began to shake and the ground rumbled, tall ferns receding into the ground, leaving a wide, open and green field. The foundling backed away and there was a somewhat-familiar hum. But it was far louder than Ekala and Zarim had been used to, almost deafening, driving the three to their knees and clutching their ears.

Within moments, dozens of them came, their bright, blue wings buzzing with ferocious intensity, as they surrounded the three completely. All of them were faeries, both male and female, and all of them wore armor covered with runic symbols. They were armed with swords, bows, and spears, their weapons held at the ready as they surrounded the three human intruders.
 

“Hey Zee, you know that plan you had about getting into Nephelm without being seen?” asked Ekala.

Zarim sighed. “What about it?”

“I’ve got a feeling it didn’t work.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Ekala. What would I do without you?”

One of the faeries hovered towards them. He was taller than the others, but that still left him at around five feet. He was thin and carried himself with grace, his long, green hair framing his face. His long sword was drawn, pointed directly at Zarim.
 

“I am Albion, commander of the forces of Nephelm.” His voice had an almost melodic tone, yet there was an edge to it as well. “You have crossed the boundary between our worlds, mortals. And you have done so without consent. How foolish are you to believe you can venture into the Forest of Eternal Night without suffering consequences?”

“Let’s just take it easy, little guy,” said Zarim. “We’re here on a mission.”
 

Albion cocked his head. “Whose mission?”

“Don’t think that’s any of your business,” said Ekala. “But it’s important. Fate of the world—which includes you, sparky—is at stake. So why don’t you just give us what we want and we’ll be on our way?”

Albion snickered. “You
are
brash. What makes you believe we will honor your requests after you have invaded our lands?”

“We didn’t invade anything, but how else were we supposed to get in?” asked Tanus. “You don’t exactly have a front door.”

“For good reason,” said Albion. “Your kind hunts us, considers us monsters. And so we do what must be done in the interests of self-preservation. Your presumptuous nature offends me, and for that alone, I should have you executed where you stand!”

“Albion, wait!”

The faerie commander paused. A woman emerged through the ranks, hovering towards them. She struck an impressive figure—youthful with an angelic face and hair as black as night. Unlike the others, she wore no armor, just simple robes adorned with runes, and she came unarmed.
 

“Nyx, get back! These...things cannot be trusted!”

Nyx held out her hand in front of Zarim and closed her eyes. A halo of blue energy surrounded her palm, as she concentrated. She gasped as her eyes snapped open. “Albion, we must take them to the king.”

“Are you mad, woman?” asked Albion.

“You have to trust me, they are on a quest that could mean the world’s only salvation!”

The actual kitchen area of the Excalibur was small, with a few booths attached to the wall. Swul sat in one of these booths, a cigar clamped between his teeth, a deck of playing cards in hand. He was engaged in a solo game to pass the time, lining up and organizing the cards in their proper order. He tried to avoid looking at the clock, although he had known exactly how long the others had been gone.

Swul removed the cigar from his mouth and knocked off the ash into a small tray beside the cards. The thought that his friends were in trouble had crossed his mind, but he went back to his game, trying to concentrate on that.

He took another drag on his cigar, setting the cards down. “If they’re lucky, they’ll change their minds and get outta that forest before they get anywhere close to Nephelm’s city limits. Faeries ain’t exactly what you’d call human tolerant,” he muttered to himself.

Swul ran over those words in his head. In truth, he’d thought of nothing other than going after them since the others had left the Excalibur, wondered if he may have been able to convince them not to go in if only he hadn’t let his anger get the better of him. At last, he just shook his head.

“Probably would be worse for ‘em if I
were
there,” he told himself. “If Zee’s smart, he’ll play dumb, act like they stumbled in there on accident in case they’re found. Faeries might let ‘em go. But if they went in there with an exile, might not end so pretty.”

What if Zarim wasn’t that smart, though? Swul had been avoiding that thought. He hadn’t wanted to consider that possibility, but there it was. It was very probable Zarim would screw that up somehow, risk not only his life, but the lives of Ekala and Tanus as well. He puffed on the end of his cigar, the embers burning the tobacco leaves up to his knuckles. Swul stamped out the nub, and reached into his vest pocket for his cigar case. He struck a match and lit a new cigar.
 

If they were in danger, Swul knew he owed it to them to do something. After all, if Zarim were in his place, he wouldn’t hesitate. Hadn’t before. Swul leaned back in the booth, his puffs on the cigar shorter and more frequent. He stared at the cards laid out on the table and slammed his fist on the surface. The cards jumped, becoming jumbled as they fell. The faerie slid out from the booth and went down to the cargo bay, grabbing his axe from the weapons cabinet.

“Somebody’s gotta save the day, I guess...”

As they reached the golden gates of Nephelm, the darkness that dominated the forest faded, giving way to bright sunlight. On approach, the gates opened outward and Albion led them inside the walls of the city. Every building was elevated a few hundred feet in the air by thin pillars, all of which appeared to be made of crystal. When the rays of the sun hit the different buildings, they gave off a wide spectrum of colors. In the center of the city were several pillars holding up interlocking structures that composed the palace.

Albion remained silent, his mood generally foul. Nyx insisted on taking the intruders to see the King, and to make matters worse, she steadfastly refused when Albion insisted on shackling them. She said it would make no difference.

The young mystic walked between Zarim and Ekala, with Tanus behind. A small battalion of guards remained with them, their faces stoic as their wings carried them, hovering just above the surface. Albion moved similarly, but Nyx walked with the humans.

“Thank you,” said Zarim. “For helping us out.”

“I did not do it for you,” said Nyx. “As I told Albion, I believe you are here for a purpose. And I see it as my duty to bring you before our King.”

“That Albie guy’s a bit high-strung, huh?” asked Ekala.

“He can hear you,” said Nyx.

“I know,” said Ekala. “Why do you think I said it?”

Nyx raised a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. Ekala took notice of the gesture and smiled herself, but she made no effort to conceal hers.