Light of Epertase 01: Legends Reborn (17 page)

For the first time since their battle began, Rasi saw fear in his young assailant. Lorca cursed him as they tumbled through the air. The straps clawed at the sides of the ravine, unable to get a hold in the hard dirt. One of them caught an exposed root, momentarily stopping their fall, but it quickly ripped free.

Rasi’s bad shoulder slammed against a jagged part of the ravine wall, jarring the two warriors apart.

Instead of colliding with the ground, Lorca and Rasi plunked side-by-side in a clear, red-tinged goop that covered the ravine floor. Rasi and Lorca sunk to their waists as if in glue before stopping. The other soldier landed several horse-lengths away with his sword embedded in the dirt ravine wall just outside of the trail of goo. All but two of Rasi’s straps plunged beneath the sludge and stuck, the two remaining straps hovering above.

Grab the sword,
Rasi screamed in his head. The two straps ignored him as they always had. He tried to pull his arm free but the slime constricted like quicksand, causing each flinch of his muscles to drag him farther beneath.

Lorca fought the gunk but his struggle only sank him deeper as well.

The warm, rotten slime rose to Rasi’s breastbone and then to his throbbing collarbone. He pictured his straps struggling below and begged them to stop.

The goop touched Lorca’s chin before he too realized that his movements were pulling him down. Maybe, Rasi thought, the kid wasn’t so dumb after all.

“Look what you got us into,” Lorca screamed.

A roar, like the cross between a whale’s squeal and a tornado’s rumble, reverberated from around a distant bend.

Lorca’s face went flush.

“By the gods,” he mumbled. “It is a belke slug.”

The other soldier panicked. “What do we do?” he screamed.

Another roar rang out before Rasi saw the rolling mountain of scaly, gray flesh in the distance. He stared in awe, having never heard of a belke slug before, let alone seen one. The first sight of the slow-moving mound in the distance made him wish that was still the case. The front of the creature was void of any features save two vertical holes that spat snot skyward with each of its roars. The creature sludged through the ravine, methodically lifting its mouth above the slime with each lurch forward. Then its body puffed out like a balloon about to pop with each slurp of the goop. Slowly, the creature neared.

The gunk rose to Rasi’s chin. He begged his straps to stop squirming below, but they ignored him as always.

The beast roared again, this time close enough that Rasi smelled its stink in the air. The creature’s mouth lifted above the slime again, revealing several rows of dull, grinding teeth. As it inhaled, its teeth disappeared below the surface.

The slug lurched closer, its slime rippling around the other soldier with each lunge. He cried for help. The belke slug lifted its mouth again and the soldier drifted with the slime toward its teeth. He thrashed, sinking lower as if by design. Soon, his head disappeared beneath the surface. The beast closed its mouth with a devastating crunch.

Lorca began to hyperventilate.

Slow your breathing, kid.

Sensing the dread, Rasi’s two free straps clawed and scratched at the dirt walls. When one of them swiped the surface of the slime, it stuck like glue, wriggled, and then disappeared beneath.

His last strap, his last hope, brushed past the sword.
That’s it. Get it. Get it,
he begged. By nothing short of luck, his salvation touched the handle again.
Yes, that’s it.
The strap grabbed the hilt and ripped the sword free.

Lorca sucked toward the beast’s open mouth with a pleading stare. Rasi needed to do something; this kid didn’t deserve such a death. His lone strap swung the sword high in the air before plunging it between the monster’s snot holes. The beast released an ear-piercing screech that echoed throughout the ravine, hesitated, and then lurched forward again, the sword still impaled in its head.

Rasi’s straps thrashed beneath the slime, dragging him lower. He tilted his head back to keep his mouth clear until the goop tickled his earlobes.
Stop fighting,
he begged
.

Lorca’s eyes showed his resignation until he closed them. He whispered a foreign prayer as his legs sucked into the creature’s mouth. He didn’t scream, at least not until the first crunch of his legs.

Rasi wished he could cover his ears. Eventually, Lorca’s head disappeared beneath the slime and his screams muffled until they were gone.

Still unsatisfied, the beast drudged forward.

Rasi’s ears sucked beneath the goo.

These damn straps.

He breathed in as much oxygen as he could before …

And then the air was gone.

Concentrate. Stop struggling.
He closed his eyes and pictured his straps relaxing under the gunk.
I NEED TO BREATHE! Wait, calm down. Focus.
He saw the blur of the suns’ light fade above the slime as he dragged lower and lower.

Stop struggling.

His head pounded, screaming for air.

Stop fighting, you fools.
The surface drifted farther and farther away. He felt the vibration of the creature’s next muffled roar. His feet pulled toward the beast like a vacuum.

Please,
he begged,
stop fighting.

He envisioned his struggling straps hearing his pleas, and imagined them lying still in the goop. His brain screamed to breathe, but he pushed it away and concentrated. He watched the appendages go limp in his mind. His lungs burned.
For you and me both, please listen.

With his brain screaming to take a breath, one of the strap’s tug at his back relaxed. Then another one did as well. Then another until all of them seemed to hear his cries. His mind and lungs starved for air. He felt the world fading. The warm slime filled his nose and ears. He tasted it, unintentionally, and it was salty and disgusting.

The strap that was still above the slime tightened and pulled at his back. He began to drift away from the suck of the beast.
Relax
, he repeated like a mantra. The suns’ light poked through from above as he slowly floated toward the surface.

Then his forehead broke through. First his eyes rose from the slime. Next, the tip of his nose met the coolness of fresh air. When his mouth cleared, he gasped in a huge gulp of air and slime. The muscles in his chest tightened as he breathed out which pulled him lower again.
Don’t breathe,
he told himself.
Not yet.

He looked up the front of the beast. His strap, his wonderful strap, had a death-grip on the embedded sword in the slug’s head. It pulled him toward the sword and freedom.

His head pulled free of the slime and slapped against the cold, scaly wall of the beast’s body. His shoulders lifted free, followed by his waist and his legs. Goop dripped from his hands and feet. He slid up the slimy front of the beast as the creature opened its mouth again. His feet dangled and brushed against the slug’s blood-stained teeth. The limp straps beneath him cleared the slime before attacking the beast with futile, pounding blows.

Once Rasi was close enough to the sword, he reached for it, grabbing its hilt with his good arm. His straps helped hoist him onto the sword like it was a ledge. Balancing on the sword, he was near the creature’s top. He dug his fingers into a crack between the beast’s scales and climbed upon its back. With a sigh, he stood up and wiped the gunk from his eyes. Ahead of the creature was nothing but slime for as far as he could see. In the creature’s wake was only a barren path of destruction and dirt.

Rasi took a deep breath. He slid down the slug’s sloped back to the bare ground while the beast continued plodding along its relentless path, oblivious to Rasi’s escape.

Rasi brushed himself off and looked around. A new seemingly impossible task stared him in the face – the ravine wall.

As he had learned from the rashta’s pit, his straps reached above for grip after grip as he painfully ascended the wall.

By the time he reached the top, the suns neared the northern horizon, the moon chasing them in a never-ending game of tag.

Salient’s weary body lay in the grass not far away. His chest rose and fell in shallow, dying bursts.

Rasi staggered to his friend. Salient panted and snorted, as if happy to see him. His eyes were tired – glassy. Rasi caressed his neck.
Old boy, you’ve been a great friend. You were all I had when I had nothing. I wish I could help you.

He bit his lip with enough force to draw blood as he envisioned his most painful act yet. A strap slithered around Salient’s neck and squeezed until his eyes slowly went dark.

Rasi stared at the stars. Spittle sprayed from his clenched teeth with each angry breath.
I will deliver this pain tenfold to all in my path. And I will bring down the gods if Alina has been hurt.
He pulled himself to his feet. Lorca’s horse grazed in the distance.
I’m coming, Alina. I swear.

Paisel wrapped up his conversation with King Logan, elated with Lithia’s war preparations. Their meeting was brief but productive. In parting, Logan offered gathered intelligence on the invading army. He said his spies called them Teks due to their advanced technological capabilities and gave Paisel a packet of papers that he stressed were for his and Elijah’s eyes only. When Paisel asked what was in the papers, King Logan smiled.

“Let’s just say our spies have been busy.”

Paisel offered thanks and Epertase’s support before departing.

He had previously ordered most of his soldiers ahead to set up camp in the massive farmland regions southwest of Lithia. The farms represented the last bit of civilization before the emptiness of the Wastelands, making them the perfect fallback location for any scouts who might have encountered trouble.

Paisel arrived at the camp later that day. The countryside glowed with the campfires of his men. He dispatched several messengers to distant farmhouses with orders to inform the property owners of the kingdom’s temporary need of their land. His newest lieutenant reported the western perimeter had been established.

Paisel unpacked his supplies in his tent before settling down for a late dinner. His meal, however, was interrupted by the arrival of a group of western scouts, escorted by armored Epertasian guards.

“Why have you abandoned your posts?” he asked Raerdon, an obese scout leader whom he had always called friend.

“Paisel, the invaders have forced our retreat.”

“Forced?”

“Their roaring contraptions and vast armies have overtaken the west. I haven’t seen such activity in the Wastelands since the height of the Heathens. They erect small towns while digging the grounds with their large machines.”

A thousand tasks raced through Paisel’s mind at once. His friend looked at him for guidance so he said, “King Elijah put me in charge of the western command. He has ordered an additional post established farther west.”

The scout tilted his head, appearing confused. “Paisel, this is as far as you can go. Any farther and you will be within their grasp.”

“By the gods, how large is their army?”

“Tens of thousands, maybe more.”

Paisel tried to project a false bravado. “I need you to round up all of the western scouts and have them report here.”

His friend shook his head, confused. “Paisel,” he said, “this is all of us, forty or so. The invaders have massacred the others.”

“Massacred? Why?”

“I don’t know, but it’s safe to say they are not here for peace.”

Paisel looked past his friend at his bustling soldiers. He didn’t immediately answer. Raerdon interrupted his thoughts, “Sir?”

“What? Oh, yes. My orders are to offer peace to the invaders and invite them to meet the royal family. I guess I should reconsider.”

“That would be my advice.”

“Did you manage to gather any intelligence before retreating? What they look like, type of weaponry? Anything?”

“Yes, sir. Quite a lot, actually.”

“Make a report of your findings, have your men do the same, and meet back here right away.”

“Very well.”

The spies sent by King Elijah rode up to the meeting. “Where are the invaders amassing?” the lead one asked. He wore all black, as did his compatriots. If not for his horse, Paisel may not have seen him at all. He squinted in a way that made his eyes hide in the shadow of his brow.

“Where?” Raerdon asked. “Everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” the spy asked.

The rotund scout acted as though he could not believe their naiveté. “They have overtaken all of the Wastelands.” He pointed westward. “In the daytime you can see the smoke in the skies from their metal monsters. If you head west, they will kill you.”

The spy grinned. “Stealth,” he said, “is our specialty. We will send word back within the week.” Then he turned and led his comrades westward.