Stormcaller (Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter 7 – Running

“Long imprisoned behind bars of bone, I yearned for freedom. Cast away fear, for in death you are free.”
–from
Necromancy and Wolves: The Veiled Darkness

Walter sliced through Juzo’s ropes using the rusty knife Mar had left. It was shockingly sharp for a blade so mistreated. Juzo recovered his trousers, and then shook out his body and stretched his legs. The hemp rope had cut deep lines and minor abrasions into his skin. “We have to get moving before they discover what happened,” Walter said, looking back towards the main road.

Juzo’s gaze paused on the wisps of black smoke rising from the armored Cerumal’s corpse. “What
did
happen?” asked Juzo, meeting Walter’s piercing green eyes, a rarity this side of Midgaard.

“I’m not sure,” Walter said, shaking his head. “I think I discovered how to use the power of the Dragon, like what Mom did…” He trailed off as the pain of sadness blended with the adrenaline surge he felt from inflicting flaming death. He retrieved his satchel and Juzo’s bag from the mess that surrounded Mar’s treasures that most would consider fit only for the trash heap.

“Well, thank you. Thank you so much, friend,” Juzo said with sincerity. He rubbed at his neck, where the ropes had caused the most damage. “So you can indeed use the Dragon? Were you going to tell me?” he asked, face pained.

“Yes, I think so,” Walter replied, cutting his eyes towards the hidden path’s location.

Juzo dropped his bag, rifling through it. “It’s gone, he burned them,” Walter said, nodding toward the fire. Within it lay two charred gauntlets with their lash attachments burned to small threads.

Juzo groaned, “That crazy bastard. Is he dead?”

“Safe to say so – time to go,” Walter commanded. They had no choice but to tread into the thicket. Juzo shuffled his way through, his thigh wound slowing their pace. Walter kept the sun to their backs to continue east. “Avoid snapping branches so they don’t find where we went,” he said.

“Right,” replied Juzo distantly. After they carefully worked their way through the thick birch forest for ten minutes, a deep horn sounded from the camp clearing. They shared grim expressions, understanding the significance of that sound. A rumbling roar followed, which soon merged into the harmonizing roars of many. “They’ve found the body,” Walter whispered. He held back the scream that boiled within, yearning for release.

Horses whinnied and the sounds of hooves could be faintly heard. Cracking branches and rustling leaves broke behind them. “They’re right behind us –how is that possible? Are you being reckless?” Juzo asked accusingly.

“No!” Walter mouthed, eyes protruding and nostrils flaring.

“We don’t have weapons, we can’t fight them,” Juzo said weakly, ducking to slip under a fallen tree. “Forget hiding our path, they know where we are,” he snarled.

“You’re right,” Walter replied, looking back. “OK, let’s move!” Walter swept Juzo off his feet, hoisting him on his back. “We’ll be faster this way,” he huffed.

“Leave me, we’ll both die like this,” Juzo said, voice breaking.

“Never,” Walter said.

Walter navigated the thicket in a laborious jog, legs burning like acid. Their pursuers grew closer, the crunch of twigs becoming more pronounced. “Keep an eye behind us, would you?” Walter asked.

“I’m on it,” Juzo replied, surveying their rear. A Cerumal loomed from their path without a helmet, its harsh unnaturally yellow eyes locked onto Juzo’s. The creature had ashen skin, the sharp maroon teeth of a carnivore, and the long horns of an Impala. The blood drained from Juzo’s face. “It found us, Walt!” he said, ferociously grasping at Walter’s once-white shirt.

It bellowed its terrible war cry and hurled a jagged spear as thick as a man’s arm in their direction. The spear ripped through a sapling a hand from Walter’s head.
That weapon was designed to go in and never ever come out
, Walter thought, glancing at the spear that had almost sent him to the Phoenix’s loving embrace.

The searing acid in his legs became burning magma as he willed them to move faster. “We’ll make it, we’ll be OK,” he said.

“It doesn’t look like it has other weapons, but you really need to move–” Juzo was cut off as his head smacked into Walter’s back when they came to a sudden stop. Another armored beast came into view from the east.

“They’re circling us like wolves,” Walter said. He turned on his heel, heading south while readjusting Juzo. He slipped and stumbled to one knee on a patch of dark wet moss, tearing his trousers. A third Cerumal came into view from the north, beating a menacing blade on a ghastly spiked shield. The pounding summoned the distant roars of others. Walter’s breath heaved in his lungs, inching closer to his breaking point with Juzo on his back.

Walter’s next step did not find purchase with solid earth, but slipped into a brush-covered hole, snapping small twigs and branches that hid it. He barked in surprise. His lurching forward trajectory carried his body, unable to stop as he and Juzo crashed into the rim of the hole at Walter’s chest, bouncing from the rim and plummeting at least four paces underground.

They landed hard, Juzo cushioning Walter with his body. A loud pop emanated from Juzo’s chest.
Juzo screamed, “My ribs! Ah!” Walter, running on pure adrenaline, kicked to his feet, clutched Juzo under his arms and dragged him from the hole’s center, knowing the Cerumal would be upon them. Two spears slammed into the subterranean floor in the shape of an X where the boys had been a moment before. Walter laughed shakily, awareness burgeoning that the Cerumal were too large to fit down such a small hole.
Maybe there were advantages of not yet being full-grown,
Walter thought.

Fierce roars bellowed from above. “Are you OK?” Walter heaved out.

Juzo wrapped his arms around his chest. “Oh, it hurts so bad,” He winced, a drop of blood sliding down his cheek.

“Let me see,” Walter said, reaching a hand to Juzo’s chest. “
A fractured rib is a common injury that happens when a bone in the rib cage cracks or breaks. The common method of injury is from a fall or forceful impact. While very painful, cracked ribs aren’t as life-threatening as those shattered into multiple pieces, where there are increased chances of lung puncture
,” his mother had taught him. Walter gently palpated Juzo’s ribs. “You’re going to be OK. I know it hurts terribly now,” he said, massaging his friend’s neck.

A Cerumal dipped its head into the hole, like a gopher seeking fresh squash to obliterate. It snapped its vicious teeth at them like a hungry dire wolf, releasing a breath smelling worse than a latrine. Walter dragged Juzo father away from the hole. The monster rose, and boldly plunged into the hole, stopping halfway through as its thick armor plate ground it to a screeching halt.

“No way, there’s no way they can fit,” said Juzo, white-knuckling the roots behind him for support. The Cerumal’s legs worked furiously against the air. It started twisting its hips in a vain attempt to free itself, bellowing angrily.

“Ha! They don’t seem to be that intelligent after all!” laughed Walter, pointing at the wriggling legs.

“By the Dragon, I can’t believe it. Do you think it will stay stuck like that?” asked Juzo, raising an eyebrow. Walter moved closer, inspecting where the beast was firmly wedged in the black-and-auburn-veined stone rim. “It looks like it,” he said, snickering.

“Well, the bright side is, it seems we’re now safe from the others with a cork in the hole,” he added, nodding to the kicking armored legs. Walter pulled the two lethal spears from under its legs – one was coated with fresh blood that had started congealing – and he handed the other to Juzo.

Streams of pink light from the setting sun filtered through the spaces that the Cerumal hadn’t blocked, coating Walter’s face in its hues. “Thanks for breaking my fall, man, I always knew you were a good friend,” Walter said, smiling. Juzo started to laugh, and then immediately stifled it, supporting his ribs, but then resumed laughing at the horror and absurdity of it all.

Chapter 8 – Blackout

“Find the edge of my destructive hand. Feed it the essence of life and redeem mastery of the dark plane.”
–from
Necromancy and Wolves: The Veiled Darkness

On the cold earth the boys slept, huddled together for warmth. Walter felt that they were passing through the eye of the needle, metamorphosing. They had initially considered sleeping in shifts, but realized they would both fail to stay conscious in the wake of the trials of yesterday. They agreed to a mutual rest despite the potential risks.

The air was still when the morning sun rose and nourished the birch forest above. Annoying Rot Flies buzzed about them, seeking necrotic tissue to feed upon. The subterranean floor was carved as if by a massive disc, a perfect concave arc except for the occasional clump of gnarled roots or fallen stone. The tunnel was high enough for a man to stand in, and had a sinuous texture from the erosion of the rain season. It was damp and quiet, providing the illusion of safety one needed for restorative sleep.

Walter lobbed a fist-sized stone at the Cerumal’s metallic legs, the clang waking Juzo and the beast.

“So this isn’t a nightmare after all,” Juzo said, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“I’m afraid not. We need to find a way out of here. I can see more light around the next bend,” said Walter, craning his neck.

“The bigger question is, where is
here
?” said Juzo, opening his arms.

“I don’t know – I’ve never seen anything like it, have you?”

The barrel-chested Cerumal roared and struggled desperately against its stony fetters.

Juzo pondered a moment. “You know, this tunnel does look a lot like a drawing I saw in one of my Pa’s books,
The Hunter’s Beast Compendium.
That’s about all I can remember.”

Walter rubbed at his chin. “Are you about ready?” Juzo appeared not to have heard him.

“Not quite yet,” he said at last. A flurry of anger lit his eyes as he stared at the suspended legs. He hobbled to the Cerumal, wielding its jet-black spear in both hands. He growled and jabbed the point through the creature’s hamstring muscles where it wore only leather armor. Juzo tugged the barbed spear, pulling hard against its flesh, inflicting a terrible wound. The creature screamed, spouting gibberish. He repeated the process for its other leg, dark pools of blood forming around its bladed sabatons. Walter watched, dumbfounded, unable to thwart him or unleash his anger in the same capacity.