The Valley of the Gods Page 5

  I’m not here, he thought. This isn’t real. There is nothing to be afraid of.

  The sound of the wind chimes all around them grew lighter. Jarek raised his hands before him and moved forward like a blind man, stopping only when he touched a tree.

  He opened his eyes. The web of horns was gone. He caught sight of the great deer disappearing into the depths of the woods, flitting here, appearing there, and then gone.

  Jarek let out the breath he’d been holding and turned to regard the others.

  “Well done,” said Nahkt. “Truly.”

  “How did you do that?” asked Sisu. He’d lowered his hands sheepishly. “The horns melted away before you.”

  “You need to listen to our guide,” said Jarek. “You too, Kish. We’re not really here. Think about home. Think about what you love. What your body has felt. Use those memories to ground you. To remind you of the living world, and that this, this is but a dream. Understood?”

  Kish nodded and put her hammer back in its loop. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.” Jarek walked back. “We’re not supposed to be here. On some primal, basic level, our presence is wrong. There’s no getting this right the first time.”

  “Well said.” Acharsis clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s all think of this as a lesson, yes? A chance to practice…what would you call it? Incorporeality?”

  Kish and Sisu both nodded, and they fell in again behind Nahkt, who led them ever on through the forest. The day began to draw to a close, the light slowly dimming as the invisible sun moved toward the horizon, and the trees themselves began to appear farther apart, the shadows between them limiting how far Jarek could see.

  “Do we camp for the night?” asked Sisu.

  “What night?” asked Nahkt, not turning around.

  “This, ah, darkness that’s growing? You know? When the sun goes down? Things get dark? People usually go to sleep?”

  “There is no sun in the netherworld, no day or night.” Nahkt stopped and turned to face them. “We are drawing away from Amubastis and her glory. It is a sign of progress. But now we must be ever more wary. Away from her light, the restless dead and the demons wander. They’ll be drawn to us. Ignore them.”

  “I thought,” said Acharsis, walking alongside Nahkt, “That the unworthy dead stayed in the land of the living? Somebody told me - maybe it was Ahktena - that they didn’t get to come below through the Fields of Reflection?”

  “She was right and wrong,” said Nahkt. “The unworthy remain in the land of the living until they tire of the sun, and then they sink through the shadows or the night into this part of the netherworld. Here they regain their fury and bitterness at being excluded from Amubastis, and that fuels their return to the land of the living, where they torment the innocent once more.”

  Despite himself, Jarek lowered his hand to the head of the Sky Hammer. How long since last he’d been cleansed of his spiritual pollution by an apsu? How many days since he’d ritually washed his feet? He touched the amulet about his neck, but having seen how poorly Acharsis had fared in that field he was less confident in its abilities.

  “I’ve never seen a demon,” whispered Kish. “You?”

  “A few,” said Jarek. “Not my best memories.”

  She squeezed his hand tighter. “I’ve no problem facing people. Even the deathless were… all right. But demons? Ghosts? The restless dead? I feel out of my depth here, Jarek. I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Stay close,” he said. “Do as I do. We’ll be all right.”

  “Everyone,” said Sisu, voice taut. “Start thinking really hard about how this isn’t real.”

  “What is it?” asked Acharsis, turning to face the Nekuulite, then looking out through the adumbrated trees.

  Kish’s grip grew tighter as she turned to look down and away. “It’ll be easier for me if I don’t see it.”

  Nobody spoke. Jarek lowered his head and peered into the gloomy forest. Somewhere along the way the trees had become ashen, their leaves more akin to hanging strips of hide than the tinkling spearheads they had once been. The temperature was dropping too, and for the first time Jarek saw his breath ghost out before him.

  “What did you see?” Nahkt stepped in close to Sisu. “A person? A monster?”

  “It looked like a man,” said Sisu. “Dressed in torn gray robes. His face…” Sisu shook his head. “I’ve seen my share of horrific things. But his face…”

  “A demon,” said Acharsis, gripping the lamassu’s amulet with his one good hand.

  “It’s best if we keep moving,” said Nahkt. “Standing here helps nobody.”

  Jarek rested his head on the Sky Hammer’s head once more. The urge to draw it was strong. His heart was pounding in his chest, a regular, slow thudding that made him supremely aware of being alive.

  An illusion, he told himself. Your body’s not really here. Don’t let it fool you.

  But it was no good. He felt sweat prickle on his brow as he continued to scan the shadowy forest. Was it growing darker? He turned slowly, probing the depths. Searching for movement. Some sign of their enemy.

  Nahkt had begun walking only to stop and turn back. Jarek knew they should follow. Knew they should get out of there. But something primal was urging him to locate the threat. To pin a direction on it so that even as they retreated, he could remain aware of its location.

  “I don’t see anything,” said Acharsis.

  “I could reach for Amubastis’ power,” said Sisu. “See if I can’t push it into view.”

  “Don’t,” said Nahkt. “You’ll only draw more attention to us.”

  Kish screamed and tore her hand free of Jarek’s grasp. She bolted into the trees at a full sprint. A man had appeared before them, crouched down so as to be directly in her lowered line of sight, clad in a robe of shifting black shadows, hair lank and hanging to his shoulders, fingers overlong, but it was his face, his face that caused Jarek to seize up in horror.

  He couldn’t understand what he was looking at. Where its face should have been was a tunnel that punched through the back of the demon’s head and into some separate reality, a dizzying drop lined with mouths filled with broken teeth, eyes that whirled and looked in every direction, mouths that puckered and simpered and opened to reveal bleeding tongues. Features without end, a display of idiocy and horror, and when the demon turned its focus toward Jarek he understood why Kish had screamed and run away.

  The demon’s regard made him feel as if he were being buried alive, pulled into that tunnel that stretched back through its head, consumed by the endless eyes that receded into obscurity, divided between them, licked all over by leather tongues and nipped at by shattered fangs. He felt his gorge rise and the bottom of his stomach fall, his throat close up and his skin crawl as if it wished to flee his frame.

  A ball of green fire burst out around the demon’s back, and it leaped up like a cricket, a spastic, sudden jump that took it high into the branches of the tree above them.

  With a gasp Jarek tore his sense of self back out of the tunnel into which it had been dropping. He didn’t hesitate, but took after Kish, running as fast as he could, bellowing her name as he dodged around trees into the dark.

  “Kish! Come back! Stop!”

  She was a fleeting figure ahead of him, long limbed and faster than he. She was pulling away. In a matter of moments he would lose sight of her altogether.

  “Kish!”

  He drew the Sky Hammer. Swung it back and around, then staggered to a stop as he hurled it overarm. The Sky Hammer glimmered with faint golden light as it sailed through the twilight gloom and impacted one of the trees a couple of yards to her side. The tree exploded into massive splinters, the trunk bending viciously in half so that the canopy came rushing down to crash upon the ground.

  Jarek ran forward, around the fallen tree, and saw Kish on her knees, holding herself up with one outstretched arm, eyes wide, flecks of blood running down her face from where she’d be
en stung by a storm of splinters.

  “Kish!” He dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Stay with me. Stay with me now. Don’t go. It’s all right. It’s all right, you’re with me. You’re going to be fine.”

  She trembled in his arms, resting her brow on his shoulder, and he thought she would cry, give vent to her terror. Instead she inhaled a shuddering breath and then pulled back to meet his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I - I don’t know what came over me. That - that thing. It was pulling me into it. Trapping me. I had to get away.”

  “I know. I felt the same. I understand. I promise. But we can’t split up. We have to get back to the others.”

  “Yes,” said Kish, and together they stood. Jarek fetched the Sky Hammer, its head dull and lifeless once more, and they strode back to where the others were calling out their names.

  “The demon?” asked Jarek.

  “Gone for now,” said Acharsis. “Sisu drove it off.”

  “It was too easy,” said Sisu, but he didn’t sound like he was bragging. He almost sounded bewildered. “I didn’t mean to reach for that power, but in the moment, it was there, and I had to do something…”

  “A lot more of them are coming,” said Jarek. He drew the Sky Hammer again. He could make out a dozen or so figures approaching through the forest, shadowy outlines that drifted closer, hesitant and elusive as they continuously placed the trees between them.

  “They sense us,” said Nahkt. “I told you not to use your power.”

  “More behind us,” said Acharsis, voice grim. “These seem different.”

  “No demons,” agreed Jarek. “Too cautious. Restless dead?”

  He could make out the closest figure now. It was that of a woman, clad in threadbare rags, her face weathered, her eyes sunken black holes, her mouth toothless, her skin chalky and wrinkled, her hair so thin Jarek could see her scalp. She reached for them with a claw of a hand then drew back.

  “They want your blood,” said Nahkt. “I mean that literally. It will give them substance, allow them to regain much of their lost sense of self. Feel passion, feel what it is to be alive. If we don’t go now, they will continue to gather till they grow brave enough to mob us.”

  “I thought we didn’t have blood down here,” said Sisu.

  “The way you’re acting?” Nahkt’s face was tight with disdain. “You’re full of it.”

  “Then let’s go,” said Jarek, pulling Kish behind him. “Sisu, Acharsis, move ahead of me. Nahkt, take the lead. Hurry!”

  They fell into position, hurrying to array themselves around him. The sight of the eyeless ghosts filled Jarek with a mute horror and disgust that was easy to turn into rage. Their weakness, their fear made it easier to hate them, to want to cave in their faces with his hammer. He welcomed that anger, warmed himself with its fiery heat. It was that or let fear rob his strength, and with the numbers that were starting to show up around them, any sign of weakness could be their last.

  They were attacked moments before reaching the edge of the forest.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Breath burning in his lungs, Jarek saw the ghosts come boiling forth from between the trees, hands outstretched, mouths gaping wide in silent howls.

  “They come!” It was all he could manage. He released Kish’s hand and drew the Sky Hammer. Chaos engulfed them.

  They sought simply to swarm him, overpower his attacks through sheer weight of numbers. Faces gaunt, eyes little more than blackened holes, they ran at him, seeking to tear at his flesh with their long, jagged nails.

  Grimacing, gripping his hammer with both hands, Jarek roared and stepped forward to meet them, swinging through the outstretched arms, shattering bones. The first wave buffeted into him, ignoring their wounds, and he knocked them away with his second swing; they were light, more akin to husks then full-bodied foes, and their chests and heads stove in like old wasp nests.

  But there were more behind them. “Alok take you!” roared Jarek, meeting them full on. His hammer was flickering with golden light once more, and the sight of it filled him with a righteous fury, a tight and terrible indignation that they’d dare seek his blood, that they’d dare assault a demigod. He rained hammer blows upon them, their sighs and gasps trailing through the wind like memories of old wounds.

  There was no time to turn and help the others. He heard Kish’s cries of anger as she swung her hammer, Acharsis laughing, nothing from Sisu. A trail of fire raked up Jarek’s forearm as nails scored three deep cuts, and his attacker suddenly took on a more solid appearance, muscle filling out the sagging skin, pinpricks of light blazing into existence in the hollows of its eyes, a long tongue lolling out to lick at split lips.

  “Damn you,” grunted Jarek, and brought his hammer down upon its skull, but it swayed aside and raked at his ribs, nearly cutting through his leather jerkin with its nails alone. Stumbling, Jarek caught his balance and turned to face it, but doing so placed his back toward the other ghosts.

  He saw how the others fared. They were an island in a sea of the hungry dead, surrounded by ghosts who were growing in number by the second. They were going to lose this battle. The knowledge hit Jarek like a blow to the gut, and he bulled his way past the ghost that had wounded him, batting it away with his hammer.

  “We have to flee!” He lunged past Acharsis to brain a ghost that was about to wound him, then shoved his friend by the shoulder. “Out of the woods!”

  Sisu’s arms were wreathed in green flame, his hair was dancing as if he stood underwater, and green mist was flowing from his mouth. Each time he gestured a score of the ghosts would collapse into ashes, their bodies glowing with green light that quickly consumed them.

  “Run, Sisu! You’re drawing more of them to us! Open a path for us out of here!”

  The Nekuulite stared at him in incomprehension, then nodded and ran forward, sweeping both arms before him and cutting down a swathe of the dead.

  Fresh pain blossomed down Jarek’s back, and a ghost wrapped its arms around his arm and hugged tight, gumming at his wrist with its soft lips. Jarek ran his fist through its head and then nearly fell as more arms clutched at him.

  Kish was the last to leave, staggering backward as she swung her hammer, and Jarek was reaching out to grip her shoulder when he saw it.

  A demon, high in the branches, gazing at her, black urine running down its leg and the side of the tree.

  It was hunched over like an enraged cat, its arms overlong and growing longer with each moment, undulating down and out to surround them. Its eyes glowed a dull yellow, and its smile was vacuous, amiable, nauseating.

  “Run, Kish!”

  But it was too late. Jarek wheeled about to flee and saw that the demon’s arms had encircled them. But they weren’t arms. They were cracks in the very air, and where they passed before the ghosts that fought to reach them the ghosts were cut in half, sliced as if by a wicked black knife.

  Jarek froze. The very act of looking upon those terrible arms caused them to sever whatever lay beyond them in twain. He glanced to his side and several trees toppled, their trunks sheared cleanly through, scores of ghosts screaming as they fell into dust. He almost turned around to look after Acharsis and the others, but then froze. Would doing so kill them all?

  “What do we do?” asked Kish, backing toward him. “How do we kill it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jarek. “Our amulets should keep it at bay. But we can’t run through its arms.”

  The arms were coming closer, their circle tightening. The demon’s smile grew ever wider until it moved beyond the scope of its face and began to cut the world behind it, causing branches to suddenly topple down, leathery leaves to burst with yellow sap and collapse to the ground, cutting off the tops of the trees in the distance.

  “Close your eyes,” said Jarek. “It’s our gaze that gives it power.”

  “Close my eyes?” Kish laughed. “Close my eyes?”

  “Trust me! Take my hand, now - close t
hem!”

  Jarek did so himself. He became supremely aware of Kish’s tight grip, the blood running down his forearm, his breath raw in his throat. Carefully, he stepped back, then again. He wanted nothing more than to take a peek at the demon, to crack his eyes open a little, but instead he scrunched them tight.

  “Now, turn with me. Don’t open your eyes. Run!”

  Sky Hammer stretched out before him, Jarek ran blindly in the direction the others had fled. Kish stumbled along beside him, and together they shouldered their way forward, past the last sparse trees and finally out from the forest into the open.

  Jarek opened his eyes. They stood on a short meadow of gray grass that ended at a cliff. The others were waiting for him at the cliff’s edge, Sisu devoid of his green flames, Nahkt with one hand over his brow, shaking his head.

  “You all right?” he asked Kish. “Don’t look back.”

  “How did you know?” She was pale, a cut running down her cheek, eyes wide. “How did you know what to do?”

  “A guess.” He smiled grimly. “A gamble. Thank you for trusting me.”

  “How much more of this is there going to be?”

  “I don’t know.” He wanted to lie to her, comfort her, but settled instead for squeezing her hand. “I don’t know.”

  “Our god-chosen guide has led us to a dead end,” said Sisu. “Look. This cliff extends to the left and right as far as the eye can see. We’re going to have to go back into the forest.”

  “Geography is an illusion,” ground out Nahkt. He, too, had been wounded in the fight, and was cradling his arm to his chest. “Orient yourself accordingly, and all is navigable. And cease throwing around your power. Are you a child in truth that you cannot obey the simplest dictums?”