(Six parts. 7000 words.)
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
One
After watching the boy disappear into the haze, Amos resumed digging.
The old man had once been a farmer, but that had been long ago. Exactly how much time had passed was impossible to say.
Since the arrival of the creatures, days quickly became weeks and months melded into years. The seasons had merged together, and crops were no longer reliable. Food and supplies were delivered by soldiers passing through the town of Pebble, their last stop en route to the war beyond the haze.
None had ever returned alive.
Amos was far too old to fight. He had little in the way of relevant skills – sewing, smithing, healing – that would aid in the battle against the creatures. Thus, the captain who had originally assumed oversight of Pebble had tasked him with digging graves. Amos had taken no pleasure in seeing the body of that captain fill one of his holes months later.
The latest captain, a man known as Powell, claimed the efforts of the villagers were the reason Pebble remained standing. Amos didn’t believe him, but there were those that did. The old man understood why. It felt good to make a difference.
With a lengthy sigh, Amos buried the head of his spade in the ground and turned his weary gaze to the cloud darkening the horizon some ways down the lone road.
There was a definitive border between the blue sky and the gray, a divide between life and death. At first, Amos had been convinced the haze would overtake the town, but it hadn’t moved since first appearing.
Amos realized he felt guilty. I should have tried to stop him…
The boy’s fate was sealed. He would be found with the rest of the day’s casualties, his body halved by the unnatural border. Those in charge of pulling the carts would stack his corpse atop the other unfortunates on their daily pilgrimage. The bodies would then be brought to where Amos worked. He would spend the morning filling in the mass grave.
Then, he would start digging another.
Returning to his duty, Amos cursed the soldiers of Pebble. This failure belonged to them. The boy should never have been allowed to pass their barricade at the edge of town. They should have stopped him, returned him to his family, and assigned him a productive trade. A young life was far too valuable to waste.
Where did he get that sword? Amos wondered, continuing to work.
From a single glance, the old man knew the blade wasn’t standard issue. It had been rusted, near to breaking. Undoubtedly, a weapon that had seen its share of wars, that had survived more years than the boy who wielded it. On the other side, it would fall from the dead boy’s hand and be lost to history. Its tale would never be heard.
Suddenly, the sharp call of a horn pierced the humid air.
Amos dropped his spade. Everyone in Pebble knew the signal. Something had breached the border. At long last, the creatures had finally decided to attack.
The old man couldn’t bring himself to move. There was little point. His death was already near, and even if he did flee, it was not as if he could outrun it for long. No. He had awaited this moment a long time. He wanted to see the creatures for himself, to lock eyes with the demons that lived beyond the haze.
The other diggers fled without a word, leaving him behind in a desperate attempt to save themselves. Amos smiled at the thought of dying in a grave he had dug with his own hands. It was a fitting death.
But it wasn’t a creature that emerged from the haze. It was the boy.
Tall and long-limbed, he strode forward with an unbalanced gait. A mop of blond hair streaked with ash covered his round face. The old sword in his left hand dripped with blood. In his right hand, the boy held something alien.
Amos found himself trekking forward with wide eyes. He stopped before the boy and examined the otherworldly trophy.
“You … returned alive,” Amos stuttered. “You killed one of them.”
The boy raised the severed head, an angled mess of red eyes and yellowed teeth. The wind swept his matted hair aside, revealing vacant and lifeless eyes.
“Come, gravedigger. We must show this to the soldiers.”
Without a further word, the boy resumed his march towards the town.
Amos followed.
Two
The town of Pebble appeared abandoned. The few citizens that remained had either fled or barricaded themselves within their homes at the sound of the warning horn. In silence, the armored soldiers watched the boy approach from behind their fortified barricades on the other side of the manmade trench.
The boy led Amos to the edge of the chasm then stopped. A nest of sharpened pikes made from fallen trees waited below. Amos leaned against the handle of his spade, following the boy’s lead. For a long moment, the two parties stared at each other, the gusting summer wind the only sound.
Presently, the boy raised the creature’s head. Black blood dripped from a mess of severed tendons and puddled at his feet.
The boy spoke in an icy voice. “The bridge.”
It was not a request.
A heartbeat later, the grinding of a metal crack began and the bridge was slowly lowered across the width of the trench. The boy stepped onto it without comment. Amos trailed him, watching the soldiers recoil at the sight of the creature’s head.
The boy approached the bearded sergeant. “Take me to your captain.”
The sergeant’s dark eyes moved from the severed head to the sword in the boy’s hands. Then, the man seemed to notice Amos for the first time. “What is the meaning of this, gravedigger?”
Amos shook his head. “You heard the boy, sergeant. Take him to Powell.”
The sergeant frowned but relented. Turning on the heel of his boot, he led the boy and the old man down what had once been the town’s central street. The buildings nearest to the haze had been claimed as barracks. The largest building, Pebble’s former inn, had been repurposed as a command post.
As they approached, two waiting soldiers swung open the thick doors. Amos followed the sergeant and the boy across the threshold and into a common room heavy with tobacco smoke. Captain Powell sat at the head of a long table with pipe in hand, black tendrils rising around his lined face. He silenced his gray-haired lieutenant with a curt gesture.
“Sergeant?”
The bearded sergeant stepped aside and allowed the boy to pass. The captain’s blue eyes narrowed as the boy dropped the creature’s head onto the table. The lieutenant leapt to his feet, frantically removing maps from the table in an attempt to prevent lasting damage.
“Forget the maps, Lawton,” Powell snapped. His hard eyes turned to the boy. “Where did you find this, boy?”
“On the other side.” The boy brushed the blond hair from his empty eyes and met the captain’s gaze. “I am Oshea. I require you and your men.”
“For what?”
“To fulfill that which is required of me.”
Powell pushed back his chair and stood. “You claim to have returned from beyond the haze, to have slain one of the creatures. These are two things that hundreds of trained soldiers have failed to accomplish. Why should I believe you?”
The boy turned and pointed his rusty blade at Amos.
“I saw him,” Amos said. “Watched him go to the other side and return bearing the head of the creature he has placed before you.”
The captain scratched his dark beard in thought. “Who are you, boy? Where have you come from?”
“I told you already. I am Oshea.”
“And this mission of which you speak?”
“We must journey beyond the border and make our stand.” The boy stepped toward the captain. “Soon, the creatures that live within the haze will spread. Here, your men will make no difference.”
The captain drew deeply on his smoldering pipe. “And on the other side?”
“Our deaths will have purpose.”
“Deploying all of my men will leave the town defenseless.”
“It already is,” Oshea replied in his hard voice. “Ready your men, Captain. We leave at first light.”
Powell exhaled, filling the air with dark smoke. It was clear to Amos that the captain had made his decision, that he would follow the boy. “And the old man?”
“He comes as well,” the boy said. He turned to face Amos, his sightless eyes unblinking. “Do not forget your spade, gravedigger.”
*
At dawn, Amos stood at the boy’s side, spade in hand. The ashen barrier rose a dozen paces before them, a towering wall that disappeared into the sky above. The crimson rays of the sun shied away from its touch, forsaking the realm beyond.
The boy turned at the sound of footsteps. Captain Powell approached, his stone face shielded by steel. Behind him the remaining soldiers of Pebble had assembled in orderly rows, a host of nearly two hundred complete with horse-drawn wagons filled with supplies.
“We stand ready,” the captain said.
The boy nodded. Then, without a word, turned and walked toward the barrier.
Together, Amos and the captain watched him disappear. “Come, gravedigger,” Powell said. “That boy is an instrument of the divine. Let us hope his arrival is not too late…”
Three
The gravedigger crossed the barrier. On the other side, he stood frozen for a long moment, studying the alien world before him.
Ash fell like snow from the colorless sky. Like a thick layer of fur, it coated the ground as far as the old man could see. Behind, the barrier rose ominously, a wall of solid black that erased the familiar world on the other side.
The boy, Oshea, had continued moving forward, leaving prints in the ash. He stood at the crest of a barren hill with both hands wrapped around the hilt of his rusting sword, his sightless eyes gazing into the distance.
Amos navigated through the ashfall to the boy’s side. From what the gravedigger could discern, the entirety of the landscape was featureless; all life within it had come to an end.
“When will they arrive?” Amos asked.
The boy did not respond until Captain Powell had joined them atop the lonesome hill. The imposing soldier held a broadsword in one hand and a round shield in the other. It was clear he sensed the imminent battle as well.
“They wait for the last of the soldiers to cross into their domain,” the boy said in his emotionless tone. “Then, they will come.”
“How do we defeat them?” Powell asked.
“It will not be easy,” the boy replied.
The captain growled beneath his steel helmet. “What must we do?”
*
Amos stood alongside the captain. The world around them was silent and gray. The soldiers had done as the boy had ordered, forming a ring against the opaque barrier with the wagons, horses, and supplies in the center. They stood with formidable discipline, weapons at the ready.
Their fear further poisoned the air.
Only one had tried to cross the barrier in the hours since their arrival. The man had died without a sound. Amos had been called into service. The unique nature of the ruined body had several times before filled his graves, and he could at long last assign cause.
Touching the barrier was death. It only added to the many questions surrounding the boy.
“I want you with the supplies, gravedigger,” Powell said presently. “There is no place for you among the soldiers. You will only hinder our goal.”
Amos tightened his grip on the wooden shaft of his spade. “I do not fear death.”
“As evidence by your refusal to acknowledge the horn.” The captain emitted a bitter laugh. “I fear a quick death in this place would be a mercy, gravedigger. It is apparent that the boy, and whoever is behind his sudden appearance, has a much darker fate in store for you.”
The old man withheld a frown and begrudgingly nodded.
Putting two fingers to his lips, Powell summoned a sharp whistle. A single soldier emerged from the formation and approached at a jog.
The woman saluted. “Captain?”
“Gravedigger, this is Pepper. She will escort you to your post.” The captain turned his hard eyes to the young soldier. “See that the old man survives what is to come.”
“Aye, sir. Only by death will I fail.”
Amos licked his lips, taking a last look at the barren, ash-filled landscape. Then, he turned and followed the soldier through the ranks of armored men.
*
What seemed an hour later, Amos sat on the edge of a wagon bed. A heavy cloth had been wrapped around its contents and a small space vacated to afford him a place to sit. The soldier, Pepper, leaned against the side of the wagon, her green eyes staring into the distance. Flakes of ash nested in her dark hair, turning it to gray.
“It’s been too long,” she said presently. “Where are they?”
“Oshea told us that the creatures would be cautious,” Amos explained. They both spoke in hushed tones, fearful to break the oppressing silence. “He said that these scouts, for lack of better term, are sent out to investigate disturbances at the barrier. They are used to hunting squads of soldiers marching through the ash, not attacking a fortified position.”
“How does the boy know they will attack then?”
The old man shrugged. “How does the boy know anything about them? He is the only living being to journey here and return, the only person we know who has ever killed one of them.”
“Where was he all this time? All the soldiers that have fallen had no idea what was out…” The young woman trailed off as the shrill note of a war horn pierced the veil of silence.
Amos pulled his spade from the ground and used it to regain his feet. Standing atop the wagon bed, he witnessed a nightmarish scene.
A dozen black creatures raced across the ghostly tundra, arrows loosed from a demonic bow. Like wolves, they ran on four legs in a staggered wave, their angled heads low, plotting their assault with the instinctual strategy of a pack.
As one, the soldiers raised their shields to meet the wave of creatures. Long spears filled the gaps between the armored warriors on the frontline as if in defense of a cavalry charge. Powell had done just as the boy had instructed.
Amos held his breath.
A hundred yards before the creatures reached the soldiers, the boy rose from the ash to greet them. Four of the beasts broke formation in response. The rest continued on.
A heartbeat later, the demons crashed into the defending soldiers.
Amos tracked the boy with his eyes. It proved nearly impossible. Oshea blurred as he danced among his attackers. The rusted blade in his hands moved too fast to be seen, drawing black blood and pained, inhuman cries as it did its work.
It was only as Oshea turned and streaked toward the soldiers that Amos’ senses returned to him.
The alien world had erupted into chaos. The sounds of battle and dying men filled the air.
The front line had crumpled and been reformed five paces back. Two of the beasts lay dead in the midst of fifty men. The remaining six creatures probed the line of steel shields, darting forth without warning, slipping past spears and ripping away lives with razor teeth before retreating to the safety of the pack.
Oshea called to them in challenge, raised his blade.
The creatures whirled to face the boy. Three dashed directly towards him. The others circled about. Flakes of ash mixed with blood rose in their wake.
The boy blurred once again, melding into his surroundings. The trio of charging hounds were cut down in midair. The others fell a heartbeat apart.
Silence reclaimed the lifeless landscape.
Oshea reappeared in the midst of the falling ash, his worn leathers streaked with black blood. The six demonic wolves rested in a circle around him.
Amos stepped from the wagon bed and walked forward, the young soldier at his side. The battle had gone just as the boy had predicted. Soon, the soldiers of Pebble would move on.
But first, there was digging to do.
Four
The boy did not speak for some time after the battle. He walked a dozen paces before the grim procession of soldiers, a beacon of hope within the otherwise dead world.
Amos, shadowed by Pepper, worked to keep pace with the long strides of Captain Powell. The old man used his spade as a walking staff, the blunt end of its shaft driving into the ankle-deep ash with each step. The gravedigger found his mind empty. His bones ached as a result of the dark work required sometime before.
After the skirmish, the old man had been put to work. Pepper had joined him. Soon, a dozen soldiers labored alongside them. The work was monotonous, orderly. No words were shared between the diggers, and none were required. The other soldiers stripped the fallen of their useful items and piled the goods in one of the supply wagons for future use.
Only when the dead had been buried in the shadow of the endless black wall did the Pebble Company move on.
The sun did not set within the haze. There were only subtle clues that the day had come to an end, a cooling wind, a slight darkening of the washed sky overhead. Ash continued to fall, seemingly undeterred by the passage of time. Amos sought its source with his tired eyes, however, there was nothing definitive on the bleak horizon.
Eventually, the boy came to a stop.
The company’s gray-haired lieutenant strode forward to where the skeletal remains of two, once-mighty trees stood sentry. The boy didn’t acknowledge the lieutenant’s presence, instead nodding once at the captain in silent agreement. After Powell gave the order to make camp, Amos and Pepper made their way to where the boy and the lieutenant stood.
“Lawton, what have you discovered?” Powell asked.
“I believe I know exactly where we are, sir,” the soldier replied. “These are the trees that mark the divergence of the road leading to the towns beyond Pebble, Chamber City and Marion.”
The captain scratched at his beard in thought. “Decent progress for a day’s march.” Then, he turned to the boy. “How far must we go to reach our goal, Oshea?”
The boy raised his blade and pointed to the east. “Far.”
*
Later, Amos sat next to the boy before one of the company’s cooking fires. The wood of the ash-stricken trees burned surprisingly well, and the soldiers had decided to consume their perishable food stores before turning to the preserves. Amos observed his charred serving of meat in silence, forcing himself to work up an appetite.
The boy’s icy voice surprised the gravedigger. “How many soldiers remain?”
Before responding, Powell drank deeply from his metallic canteen. “One hundred and forty-three of the original two hundred and six. Five harbor wounds form the battle.”
“They will not live through the night. Make sure to bury them.”
Pepper’s green eyes widened in shock. “But–”
“It will be done,” Powell interrupted. “I have questions about the creatures, boy.”
“You may ask, but I cannot promise answers.”
“You labeled those that attacked us scouts. What can we expect going forward? Do they employ a traditional military structure?”
“I do not know,” Oshea replied.
“And the bodies that are returned each day to the barrier … why put them there?”
“The creatures want us to fear them. Scouts are tasked with returning their kills to the other side for display. Their generals seek time.”
“And the bodies of our fallen?”
“Scouts will not bother with the buried.”
“What do the creatures want?” Powell asked.
Oshea faced the captain, sweeping aside ash-laden hair to reveal his vacant eyes. “What else? They seek to control this world.”
“How do we stop them?”
“We must go to the Shining Mountain and face their Queen.”
The lieutenant erupted into a fit of coughing, nearly choking on his meal. “Did you say Shining Mountain? That’s over a week’s march at our current pace.”
The boy shrugged. “It must be done for the good of all.” Oshea stood and turned his empty gaze to the barren land beyond the fire. He gripped the hilt of his rusted blade tightly, his knuckles visibly white. “Have I answered your questions, Captain?”
“One more. When will they attack again?”
“It will not be tonight. Tell your men to sleep well.” With that, the boy marched away from the flames and disappeared into the swirling ash.
The lieutenant sighed. “We’ll never reach Shining Mountain. At this rate, we’ll all be dead in three days’ time.”
“Enough, Lawton,” Powell snapped. “Would you rather have died hiding behind that trench?”
“Either way, our deaths will be meaningless.”
The captain shook his head. “Nay. Here, they have purpose. Use your maps to plot the best path to the mountain.”
“It doesn’t seem that the boy needs help.”
“That is an order, Lieutenant. Am I understood?”
Lawton rose, glaring in the direction the boy had gone. “Aye, sir.”
After the lieutenant had gone, Powell turned to Amos. “Have you ever wielded a sword, gravedigger?”
Amos shook his head. “I was a farmer … before.” The old man watched as the captain retrieved his spade with a long arm and examined it in the firelight.
“Pepper.”
“Sir?”
“See that the head is sharpened each night.”
The woman nodded. “Aye, sir.”
Amos met the captain’s eyes in question. “I thought you didn’t want me to fight.”
“The lieutenant was right about one thing,” the captain replied, “there will come a time when only a few of us remain, when every man must face the creatures head on.” Powell rose, approached the old man and placed a hand on the back of his head, just above the neck. “We have learned from our victory. Strike them here, and they will fall.”
“If it comes to that, our mission will have failed,” Amos chuckled morosely.
Powell smirked. “Don’t underestimate your worth. The boy brought you here for a reason.”
Amos stared somberly at his uneaten meal. But not to fight … to dig graves.
Five
The days in the lifeless world passed in a fog. The ashfall did not cease. Gray flakes worked their way between gaps in armor, burrowed beneath the canopies of the supply wagons. Ash flavored meals and quilted those fortunate enough to find sleep.
There was little conversation among the one hundred and thirty-eight remaining soldiers of the Pebble Company. They followed their captain without complaint, knowing their quest to be a noble one, that there would be no return to the world they sought to defend.
Amos spoke with Captain Powell sparingly. The boy did not speak at all. It was clear that a divine hand rested upon Oshea’s shoulders, but it was unclear which. Ultimately, it mattered little to the gravedigger. Amos knew they were fortunate to have any sort of aid at all.
The Pebble Company marched as if at war, sending scouts forward, establishing a defensive perimeter at every campsite, implementing lessons learned from their first skirmish held in the shadow of the black wall. There had been no sign of the demonic creatures since the costly battle with the scouts. Powell believed the creatures were conjuring up an equivalent force to match their own, that a decisive battle loomed.
There was no talk of what would come after.
Amos walked with the support of his sharpened spade, his mind drifting through memories of the time before the arrival of the creatures. His life had chosen not to flash before his eyes but to linger upon them like the departing kiss of a lost lover.
He saw with uncommon clarity the face of his long dead wife, heard the cries of his first child, relived the thrill of his first successful harvest. The gravedigger considered himself lucky to have lived such a life. It pained him to think of the young soldiers who would be robbed of so much. That, if they failed, such experiences would never be had by anyone again.
“The boy has turned north. Why?”
The sound of Powell’s voice was unexpected. Amos turned to see that the captain had brought the Pebble Company to a halt with a raised hand. His lieutenant stood at his side.
Lawton unfurled the parchment in his hand and guided the captain’s stern gaze with his index finger. The immeasurable time spent in the gray world had only somewhat diminished the soldier’s desire to question their march to certain death. “He’s chosen a road that bypasses the mountain. Perhaps he seeks the other side.”
Powell grunted. “How long?”
“At least another two days. Our supplies are running thin.”
“Make them last,” Powell commanded.
“Of course, sir. I have another possible explanation. What if–”
Amos found his mind wandering from the soldiers’ conversation. There had been a shift in the air, something he felt more than he could see. He stepped forward, narrowed his eyes, and surveyed the eastern horizon.
“What is it, gravedigger?” Pepper asked.
“I’m not certain…” the old man trailed off, realizing the source of his discomfort. “They’re watching us in the distance. I can sense their gaze.”
The woman frowned. “I can’t see anything. You must have the eyes of a hawk to see through the gray snow.”
“Ash,” Powell corrected. “As the lieutenant has just informed me, there’s a reason it’s called the Shining Mountain. Centuries ago, the same sort of ash ruined this part of the continent for a generation. Shining Mountain is a volcano.”
“You’re saying the creatures somehow brought on an eruption?” Pepper questioned.
“That’s one possibility, soldier. The other is much darker. Perhaps the creatures belong to our world after all.”
*
The next day, Oshea brought the Pebble Company to a stop several hours after breaking camp. In the distance, Shining Mountain rose like a flaming torch, its girth dominating the forsaken landscape. The gravedigger heard the soldiers whispering among themselves in awe.
The boy studied the flaming mountain with his sightless eyes, only turning when Powell arrived with Amos, Lawton, and Pepper on his heels. Oshea had not bothered to clean his leather armor since the initial skirmish. The black blood of the creatures somehow resisted the ceaseless fall of ash, crisscrossing his breastplate like the stripes of a great cat.
“The creatures defend their queen at all costs,” the boy said in his hard voice. “We will have to defeat them to reach our goal.”
Powell grunted. “I withheld the scouts at your request. Do you know how many there are?”
“No more than thirty.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Lawton interjected. “We need an accurate count to decide how best to stand against them.”
“Aye,” Powell agreed. “The lieutenant has a point.”
The boy shook his head. “I have seen it through eyes not my own. Other companies have journeyed to the mountain. I watched them fall.”
“You did not tell us there were others.”
“There was not need,” Oshea explained. “Their purpose was to aid ours. Their deaths have depleted the ranks of the creatures.”
“We could have worked together. We could have–”
The boy cut the captain off. “This is the way it was meant to be. We are the last humans within the haze. We must deliver the killing blow.”
Powell sighed, glancing over his shoulder to where the remaining soldiers stood at attention a hundred yards away. “And how will we do that, boy?”
“You will draw them out of their nests with a show of strength. I will enter the heart of the mountain and face their Queen.”
Scratching his beard, Powell focused on the distant mountain. “A diversion. Why haven’t the other companies tried it?”
“Because they were not instructed to. Thus far, the creatures have faced only direct challenges so that we can maintain the element of surprise.”
“And if you kill the Queen?” Powell asked after a long moment.
“The others will fall,” the boy responded. “They are linked.”
“This is madness,” the lieutenant spat. “How will they not see you coming?”
Oshea used his blade to draw a rough depiction of the mountain in the ash. “There is a smugglers tunnel nearby that runs to the mountain’s northern side. The gravedigger and I will enter here.” He marked the spot with an X, then marked a second location with a circle. “Your soldiers will draw the creatures out of the primary entrance.”
“Allow me to send a unit to assist you.”
The boy focused his vacant eyes upon the woman standing beside Amos. “She may accompany us to protect the gravedigger but no more. I will handle the remaining creatures within.”
Presently, Powell nodded. “When do we move?”
“Now,” the boy said. “The hour has come.”
Six
Amos watched the soldiers march toward the mountain, calloused hand wrapped around the shaft of his spade. The ominous feeling of observation faded as the unseen creatures followed what remained of the Pebble Company. Just as the boy had predicted, the three humans left behind escaped attention.
The soldiers had taken the last of the supplies from the remaining wagons, leaving a host of wooden carcasses to witness the gravedigger’s work. The horses had long since perished, slain for their meat before reaching utter exhaustion. The fate of the beasts had been just as noble as that of the soldiers.
“How far must we dig?” Pepper asked the boy.
Oshea perched above on solid ground, sightless eyes locked onto the blazing mountain that dominated the horizon. He spoke without turning around. “The tunnel we seek was sealed during the last eruption. You are nearly there.”
How much does this boy truly know? Amos shook the question from his mind, wiped the sweat from his lined brow, and kept digging. He was old enough to accept that some questions were not meant to be answered.
“And once we kill the Queen?” the soldier continued to pry, burying her spade deep within the ancient earth. “Will we use the tunnel to escape?”
“We will not return,” the boy replied.
Pepper met the eyes of the old man and growled in frustration upon seeing that he had long since accepted their fate. “You can’t … you can’t just plan on dying!”
Oshea shrugged. “Join the others if you wish.”
Throwing a shovelful of dirt over her shoulder, Pepper shook her head defiantly. “I promised Captain Powell that I would protect the old man. I will not break my oath.”
“Good. The gravedigger will need your help for what is to come.”
At that, Amos burst into laughter.
“Since when is dying so funny, old man?” Pepper snapped.
“It’s just…” Amos paused in an effort to regain control of himself. “I always wanted to die in a grave dug by my own hands.”
*
Captain Powell walked across the front line of the Pebble Company, dragging his blade along an unbroken row of steel shields. The face of the mountain loomed directly ahead. A stream of lava parted around the entryway, a massive gap in the rock filled with hundreds of demonic eyes. Ash fell from the gray sky like heavy rain.
He had already spoken what last words he had to offer. There had been little need. No soldiers were finer than those of the Pebble Company. They stood with perfect poise, the product of countless hours of training. Their eyes harbored only determination. True soldiers knew the cost that came with service, that their lives were not their own.
Powell found a smile on his weathered face. It does not matter that none will know what we have done here. It only matters that they are alive not to.
The captain stopped next to Lawton and placed an armored hand on the man’s shoulder. For all his faults, the soldier was as good as they came. There was a reason that Powell had named him lieutenant. “Make sure the entire world can hear our cry.”
“What’s left of it anyway.” With a knowing smirk, the graying soldier raised the company’s horn to his thin lips and signaled for the final battle to commence.
*
The gravedigger followed the boy through the darkness, a hand on his back. Pepper trailed him in the same fashion. The walls of the narrow smugglers’ tunnel pressed them from all sides. No one had spoken since Amos had uncovered the ancient entryway. The boy had simply hopped down from his roost and trekked toward their waiting grave.
Periodically, the mountain moaned, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The heat was oppressive. Sweat flowed like water from the gravedigger’s ancient pores. It was clear that Shining Mountain prepared for its end. The old man thought it likely that the creatures were waiting for the eruption, that they would spread with the ash.
Just as Amos neared exhaustion, the boy finally halted. The sound of a horn arrived a heartbeat later, distant and harrowing. The old man imagined the soldiers of the Pebble Company, spears ready with Captain Powell at their head. With any luck, the soldiers could buy them enough time to find and defeat the Queen.
Perhaps some will even live to tell the tale…
“Move,” the boy commanded. Oshea turned his slender body to one side and, like a snake, slithered between a narrow gap in the mountain stone.
Amos followed suit, retrieving his spade from Pepper after he was through. As the soldier navigated her way through the tunnel’s exit, the boy brought a lantern to light and pressed it into the old man’s free hand.
The trio had emerged into a wide chamber, the light unveiling its barren nature. The sounds of battle were distant. The ringing of steel. The pained shouting of the demonic creatures and the men fighting them. There was a strange and muted order to it all.
Pepper’s hand brought the old man back to the present. Wordlessly, the soldier pointed ahead to where the shadowy figure of Oshea approached a crater in the chamber’s center. She flashed him a sardonic grin. “It seems the creatures have already done your job for you, gravedigger.”
*
The path stemming from the crater led deep into the mountain, sloping ever downward.
The three humans marched in familiar silence, the earth rumbling like a sleepless giant around them. All sound from the world above faded into nonexistence. Time lost what little of its meaning it had retained in the world of ash.
Eventually, Oshea stilled.
Amos squatted next to the boy who had retrieved his rusted blade from the sheath strapped across his back. The heat radiating from the mountain had become unbearable. Flickering lantern light leaked forward, revealing a cavernous hollow filled with what looked to be nests crafted from rock.
“We have almost reached the center. There, the Queen works to harness the energy of the mountain, to repurpose it for the needs of her children. Soon, the mountain will be no more,” the boy explained in a hushed tone.
“How long before that happens?” Pepper asked.
“Not long.” The boy gestured with his blade. “The last line of defense awaits.”
As if waiting for their cue, the wolf-like creatures attacked, materializing from the shadows at the edge of the lantern light.
Oshea moved with impossible speed. Black blood from the first nightmarish beast sprouted into the air like a geyser. The boy remained in motion, blurring forward to assail a waiting group of the creatures.
Amos stumbled suddenly, pushed aside by the strong hand of Pepper. The lantern slipped from his grasp, rolling to a stop against mountain stone but refusing to extinguish.
The soldier stood protectively before the gravedigger, sword in hand. One of the creatures studied her with a myriad of gleaming eyes, baring its razor teeth in challenge.
Then, it lunged forward.
Pepper met the beast without hesitation, driving her left shoulder into its wide, deadly mouth. A gasp escaped her lips as razor teeth sliced through her armor and buried deep in her flesh.
But she did not fall. With a valiant cry, the soldier struck with her blade, driving its point through the neck of the creature latched onto her.
More movement in the lantern light.
Amos forced himself forward, somehow managing to intercept a second beast as it went for the wounded soldier. The blow sent the spade spinning from his hands. Sharp pain lanced through the old man’s body, and the world spun about him.
When his vision finally righted, the creature perched triumphantly atop his frail body, ruby eyes radiant, long teeth dripping hot salvia. It let loose a deafening cry as the mountain quaked.
The old man met the creature’s gaze calmly. He did not fear death.
The many-eyed creature hissed in surprise as the point of a sword emerged through its thick neck, and its weight eased from the gravedigger’s body. Amos gasped for air as the soldier pulled him back to his feet.
“Seems your spade was not quite sharp enough, old man,” Pepper remarked through heavy breaths. “All that digging must have dulled it again. Where’s the–”
They steadied themselves against the cave wall as a violent tremor threatened to split the earth beneath their feet. As the world struggled to regain its composure, Oshea emerged from the shadows.
The boy’s once-blond hair was matted with ash and dark blood. His armor was in tatters, a row of claw marks nearly splintering his leather cuirass. He lowered his sightless eyes to examine the two creatures lying next to the old man and the soldier, then met their gaze with his eerie demeanor.
“We must hurry.”
Amos retrieved his spade and lantern then followed the boy, Pepper a pace behind. The old man’s body protested every step. His heart battered in a vain attempt to escape his chest. He sensed his end swiftly approaching.
Suddenly, light overtook the darkness.
The boy led them onto a narrow, bridge-like pass stretching to an island of stone suspended above a lake of magma. A single creature awaited them in the center.
Twice the size of the others, the Queen’s midnight skin held firm against the devilish light of the chamber. Her red eyes narrowed as the boy walked forward with his rusted blade in hand, leaving a trail of dark blood in his wake.
Amos stopped Pepper as she attempted to join Oshea. The soldier’s left arm hung loosely at her side. She could fight no more. “Stay here.”
“And you, gravedigger?”
The old man stepped forward. “Something tells me this is why I’m here.”
Oshea halted before the Queen.
The gargantuan creature roared, standing on its muscular hindlegs to reveal a chest streaked with veins of glowing fire. Amos’ slowed at the end of the floating bridge, eyes widening as the creature opened its mouth and a torrent of fire came forth, birthing a sublime and fiery light within the heart of the mountain.
The boy was ready.
Oshea eluded the flames with his unnatural speed, racing around the perimeter of the suspended land mass, a step ahead of certain death. Then, just as the stream of fire reached its end, he planted his left foot in the ground and lunged for the Queen.
The creature hissed, swiping at the lanky boy with its long claws. Oshea slid beneath them, guided his rusted blade along the coruscating belly of the beast.
He reemerged into open space and wordlessly retook his stance, liquid fire dripping like blood from the underside of the creature.
Still, the battle was not won.
In the midst of a sharp cry of pain, the creature kicked the boy with its hindlegs, sending Oshea tumbling past Amos to land in a heap at the edge of the platform.
The gravedigger intercepted the Queen upon her approach. The creature eyed the spade in his hand with what seemed curiosity, allowing the old man an opportunity to send the rusted blade toward the fallen boy with the heel of his boot.
Amos never had chance to avoid the blow. A swipe from the creature’s claws batted him through the air like a ragdoll, ripping through his worn armor. He landed flat on chest, the breath driven from his lungs. Somehow, he managed to raise his head and witness what came next.
The Queen dashed for the boy who had regained both his blade and his footing.
Oshea leaped upward, flipping through the air to narrowly avoid sword-like teeth. The boy reoriented himself in mid-air and landed atop the creature’s muscular back. Then, he gripped the hilt of his rusted blade with both hands and drove it into the back of the beast’s neck.
The Queen bucked wildly, sending Oshea skidding across the stone to land beside the gravedigger. Then, the great creature stumbled forward and plunged into the lake of fire below. The mountain bellowed in response, sending rocks tumbling down onto the island.
Amos found Pepper kneeling at his side.
“Get up!” she screamed. “We must leave!”
The gravedigger shook his head and placed a hand on the unconscious boy. “Take him,” he managed through overwhelming pain.
“But–”
“You’ve done all you can for me, soldier. Save the boy!”
*
Pepper watched Shining Mountain erupt with the strange boy at her side. At the gravedigger’s command, she had carried Oshea back through the mountain tunnel and fled until her legs gave way beneath her.
“What now?” the boy asked, watching the flood of fire with his sightless eyes. “I was not supposed to survive.”
“There are no guarantees that we will,” she replied flatly. “We have no supplies. We were probably better off dying with the gravedigger.”
At that, the strange boy emitted a haunting laugh.
The soldier turned from the vibrant mountain, an unspoken question in her eyes.
Oshea met her gaze and grinned. “It seems that I can still see, that there may be a path forward after all…”