Syth and Axe (part 6) : In the Hall of the Crystal Sage

Read part 1 here: https://parallaxrealms.blogspot.com/2024/04/bunyan-went-down-to-jersey-part-1.html

 Part 7: In the Hall of the Mountain King

1904 - Mount Shasta, California

Brown looked down into the dark cave. “I’m not going in there.”

“You call yourself a miner?”

“That’s not a mining tunnel. I don’t know what that is, but it’s not a mine!”

“Ah, ya coward. Get your hide down in the hole and see what’s in there. C’mon!”

He lived with people calling him a coward, a liar, a fraud, a trickster. Yet JC Brown insisted that there, deep below the slopes of Mount Shasta, he found a cache of treasures beyond imagining - mighty shields, walls lined with gold, mummies ten feet tall. It was too deep to drag them free of that place. And so, thirty years later, against all opposition, he rallied a crew and sought to strike out on the several-hour drive back up to Mount Shasta to recover the artifacts.

When everyone had assembled in Stockton, he vanished, apparently never to be heard from again.

1950 - Pine Barrens

Syth placed the book down on the table beside his bed. “Lemuria was named for the monkey-like animal. It was found on two different land masses separated by the Indian Ocean, so geologists, specifically the crazy ones, began to assume there had been a land mass spanning that space. Not knowing what else to call it, they dubbed it ‘Lemuria.’”

Kneelength lounged in the corner. “So yer telling me there was a race of beings livin’ on a landmass in this Indian Ocean an’ they all jus’ vanished?”

“Ever heard of Atlantis?”

“The Ocean?”

“No, the landmass that vanished.”

“Like Lemuria?”

Syth rubbed his face. “Never mind. There have been land masses that have vanished. Who knows what is waiting at the bottom of the ocean?”

“Or at the bottom of Lake Baikal?” Paul reminded.

“In time,” Syth replied. “We still don’t know how to even get over there. No one can get into that country. You said so yourself.”

“Yes, but what about those ‘Blue Holes’ we keep seeing?”

Syth shrugged. “If you can find a way to get to the bottom of it, go ahead. I’m not jumping in. I’ll sink to the bottom and never move again. No thanks.”

“Guess we’ll just let Cole open the way for us and get there first?”

“It was his idea in the first place,” spat Syth. “I don’t know what he’s up to, and we seem to have only messed things up working with or against him. Now, I say we just avoid him.”

“And let him keep doing whatever he’s doing? He’s corrupting portals!”

“Great, and when he does, then I’ll go through. Let him be. We can’t stop him if we don’t know what his end goal is.”

Kneelength began to snore in the corner.

“Wake up!” They shouted in unison.

He jerked upright. “What?” he muttered. “Nothin’ yer sayin’ applies to me.”

“Cole was the one who trapped you in the fairy realm. Don’t you remember?”

“An’ he sent you in t’ let me out. So?”

“I wouldn’t trust that was his intent,” Paul responded.

“After all, he blinked Paul out of existence, sent him off to battle a vengeful spirit for a few years.”

Paul nodded. He hadn’t quite informed them of his hundred-year exile. He figured it would raise more questions about his life than he was willing to discuss. Having been involved in certain world events more than once was confusing enough for him without replaying the flashbacks. He’d seen certain men die, only to meet them again and be forced to watch them to go off to their deaths without being able to stop them. The only two he’d been able to save were the two in that manor house, but only because he’d never actually seen who was inside, and thus wasn’t breaking any sort of set timeline. He didn’t know what would happen if he were to intentionally change anything.

“But at least the ol’ ox’s laid t’ rest.” Kneelength responded.

“Yeah,” Paul replied.

Syth tapped the book. “Lemuria…”

“Atlantis.” 

The devil rubbed his face. “I just… I just can’t right now.”

“What?” replied Kneelength.

Paul placed a hand on Kneelength’s shoulder. “What is the importance of Lemuria? Why should we care?”

“Lemuria sank beneath the waves, and their people scattered.”

“Okay.”

“But they eventually were all drawn to a powerful place of power called Telos.”

“Sounds Greek.” replied Kneelength. “They make good food.”

Syth sighed again and continued. “This city was their hub of operation - a crystalline city lined with gold and jewels and all sorts of wondrous technology, guarded by pylons of unbelievable power.”

“How do we know all this?” Paul mused.

“Folklorists.” 

“Ah, the ones that say that I had lumberjacks that would skate across a frying pan with slabs of bacon strapped to their feet so I could have my breakfast?”

“Pretty much.”

“So we should definitely trust everything they have to say.”

“Pretty much.” It was as if Syth pushed up an imaginary pair of glasses and continued.  “Whatever the truth is, I keep finding references to this place called Lemuria. Wherever they came from, there are abundant evidences…”

“...from folklorists…”

“... and theosophists.”

“Oh, those are so much better,” replied Paul, scoffing. He’d met a few of Blavatsky’s followers through his travels. Lunatics all.

Syth threw his hands up. “This is why I never let anyone into my forest. This is why I hid. All of you humans are insufferable.”

“You were one, too.”

“Maybe.”

“A folklorist told me.”

“Or was it a theologist.”

“Theosophist.”

“That, too. Though I think they invented a cream for it.”

Syth shrugged. “I don’t know. Can I finish, please? I’m trying to hold off from killing those who annoy me, but you both are making me reconsider my decisions.”

“Continue. What do the theosophists have to say about the Lemurians?” Paul replied, clamping a hand over Kneelength’s mouth.

“Did you ever meet a St. Germaine in your travels?”

“Didn’t meet many saints in my life, so probably not,” replied Paul.

“He was from St. Germaine… maybe. I can’t quite place who he was or where he was from. He was a spy, philosopher, composer, a bunch of things.”

“Okay. But I don’t think I met him.” Paul responded.

“Someone named Ballard claimed he did about twenty years ago.”

Paul tried to think of where he’d been in the 1930s. “I don’t think I was there.”

“This St. Germaine supposedly gave him some sort of liquid which provided great wisdom, and he started some sort of new religion that’s spreading all over.”

“Oh, great. New religions… what’s this one?”

“I AM teaching.”

“Like… Jehovah in the Old Testament ‘I Am’?”

“Pretending to be, yes.” Replied Syth. “But the part that matters is this… whoever this was, he didn’t speak with words - he spoke to Ballard’s mind.”

“If it’s true.”

“Of course.”

“But folklorists believe…”

Syth glared at Paul. 

“Kidding. So you think this Lemuria-Telos-St. Germaine place is real, even if the stories might be induced by something less-than-real.”

“You mean theosophist?”

“Yah. Not a fan.” Replied Paul. “I met Blavatsky once. Not a fan.”

“Who haven’t you met?” Syth mused. “But this is what I mean… if there are beings like me - like us - in the mountains of California, then we need to get to them and see if they know what’s going on. Maybe they can even shed some light on what Cole’s doing if we can describe it.”

“And if it’s all just made up nonsense?”

“With what we’ve seen, what are the chances of that?”

Kneelength let out a snore.

“And maybe we can get him some help, too.”

“I’m fine,” Kneelength responded suddenly. “You both are just boring”

1951 - Mount Shasta, California

Syth looked like a kangaroo in a coat and hat. He gangled his way through the streets, trying not to look anyone in the eye. A fake bear covered his lower jaw, his snout sticking out like well… an oversized nose. A furry chin and face were hidden with strategically-placed dye treatments, and his wings were concealed beneath a broad trenchcoat. It was a balmy day, but off in the far distance lay their prize - the pristine beauty of Mount Shasta.

“This way,” he motioned.

Paul stood, staring up at the broad swath of trees. He gazed at the axe in his hand.

“Don’t even think about it,” Syth replied.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“When a lumberjack stares at a forest, it’s like a butcher staring at a herd of sheep. It’s not what we’re here for.”

“Just one?”

“No.”

“I think you need to go back to your own forest.”

Kneelength chuckled.

They turned and looked down at him. He looked in all points like a portly gnome, from his long beard to his pom-pom topped hat. The leather bag slung over his shoulder, the thick rawhide jacket and mittens.

“Did you just fall out of a mine cart?”

“I want to be warm. Besides, who knows what we’ll find in Atlantis.”

“Again, these are Lemurians… in a city called Telos.”

“So say folklorists. I think it’s Atlantics.”

“Atlanteans.”

“See, you agree with me.”

“If what these men said is correct, then there are ancient tombs deep under the mountain, and possibly a city… though I don’t know if it’s still inhabited. Maybe we’ll find answers as to what we are - what we all are. The city is named Telos.”

“Greek.”

“Yes,” replied Syth. “I’m sure it’s Greek. That’s not important. If the Lemurians really did travel here, we need to find them.”

Paul led them into the forest. He’d learned through years of travel the way through the surprisingly underbrush-free forests of the West Coast, though it had been quite some time since he’d traveled them. The trail wound up and around, hours of travel up the side of the mountain. Snow capped its summit.

“This way,” Syth stated, examining a small map. “All reports state the entrance is somewhere over in this region.”

“And this St. Germaine?”

“Yes, he was spotted somewhere in this area as well. There was a spring, and a cave system.”

Paul stared around them. “We’re on a mountain. How are we going to pinpoint a single cave and spring…?”

“Found it!”

Paul and Syth turned. Kneelength stared down into a deep hole. “Heading down at about a thirty degree slant, heads down a few miles I’d guess? I’ve been known to find the best caves. This is a good cave.”

Syth stood at the cave’s mouth. Paul did as well.

“What are you waiting for?”

Paul exchanged glances. “You were the one who brought us out to explore an underground city.”

“Yah,” replied Syth, “I just didn’t think about how you’d get into the underground city.”

Kneelength chuckled. “Well, tunnels and caves are just fine. Le’s go!”

They began in what seemed to be just a sloping road-like path - an old mining tunnel it seemed. Old beams stretched across above their head, still holding despite the press of years. The tunnel moved down at a comfortable rate, looping here and there, splitting off at various junctures - yet Kneelength always seems to take the right path, and none of their turns ever ended in a dead end.

It was about halfway through the day, Paul assumed, when the tunnel opened up into a broad cavern. Kneelength turned his flashlight to the walls. “Lookit this.”

There, recessed into little alcoves, were stalagmites with the strangest ribbing.

“Ten foot tall mummies. More like pillars of stone.”

“An’ look there.”

Up on the ceiling, glistening and shining, was a wet golden fungus. “Caverns of gold.”

They walked a little farther. A broad lake stretched out before them.

“And look at all this shimmery metal.”

It was ice, but in the dim light of the flashlight, and by whatever source the others had used years earlier, it could have easily been confused for metal, especially for a man who’d been wandering for miles under the ground.

“Where to from here?”

“Across the ice?” Paul responded with a shrug.

Syth looked out across the expanse. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s not running water, so it should be fine.”

Syth nodded. “I won’t be able to fly, and I imagine whatever we’re looking for is across.”

Paul tossed him a rope. “Tie it around your waist. If you go under, I’ll pull you back out. Can’t risk you sinking to the bottom of however deep that hole goes.”

They stepped onto the ice together. It was cold, and smoother than glass. Kneelength clattered his way out across the depths, cackling. “I’m ice skating!”

“Wait for us!”

Paul fastened the rope around his waist. “I think it’ll hold.”

Syth stepped out himself. His hooves clattered slightly against the sheet as he went. It held him up. 

“So it is only running water.” he mused. “I was honestly surprised that I could fly over it.”

“Maybe far enough above it, you’re immune?”

Syth shrugged. “Not sure. I’ll have to find a tall bridge after this and see.”

They continued their way across, trying to ignore the slight crackling sound as they went.

Kneelength had ice skated to the other side, and now shouted out across the darkness. “More fake mummies and gold over here!”

“Any way out?” Paul replied.

“Not that I see.”

Kneelength bobbed his way back across the ice.

Syth glanced over at Paul, nervously fidgeting.

“This isn’t like you,” Paul observed.

“Dark, enclosed spaces to me are forests with too much undergrowth. I-I’ve never been good underground.”

“Underground’s great! I wonder if I’m part dwarf. Maybe my left arm used to be a smithy’s arm!” Kneelength waved his nub. “Wonder if I c’n summon dwarf arms.”

He attempted, and a slight glow flickered around the severed appendage.

Syth looked to his feet. “Let’s move off of the ice.”

There was the sound of several feet crackling in each direction.

Kneelength popped an appendage out of the ether. It exploded into their reality - large and hairy. Glowing with a greenish-blue aura, the arm reared up and thudded heavily against the ice. They all froze.

Then the cracking began again.

“Get… that… arm…” Paul couldn’t finish the sentence before the arm reared up and thudded into the ground again.

Then Syth vanished as the ice collapsed.

Paul felt himself being dragged along behind.

“Ugh!”

Kneelength dropped straight down through the depths, his larger-than-normal arm like an anchor. He sank faster than he could respond.

Syth hovered for a moment, trying to catch with his wings, but the ice was spider-webbing. Cracks raced along the surface, and Paul strained to pull him back out, his studded boots catching and digging into the now-rough surface of the ice.

He began to slide forward as the water soaked through Syth’s clothes and fur.

He was becoming a boulder for weight, and while Paul was strong, the ice was not.

He felt a floe give way, and dropped on the other side of it. The rope went taut as Syth’s wings dipped below the water, and Paul felt himself being dragged forward until the rope pointed straight down. Syth was sinking, and Paul was all that was keeping him from vanishing into the depths as Kneelength had.

Then the chunk began to capsize.

“No no nononono!!!” was all Paul could yell before his mouth filled with water and he found himself being towed straight down to the bottom of the depths by the Jersey Devil.

It seemed as if they sank for miles, but Paul couldn’t tell. The darkness absorbed them, the faint light of Kneelength’s fairy arm the only thing around.

And then they struck the bottom.

Paul breathed air.

“Wh-what happened?”

Kneelength held up his arm. The glow reflected off a layer of water high overhead.

“We passed… through?”

Syth shed his cloak and stretched his wings out to each side. “I hate caves, and I hate water… and I’m in both…”

“It’s fine. You can’t drown.” Paul reminded him. “I don’t know why you even breathe.”

“I don’t if I don’t need to.” Syth replied, “But it’s a nice hobby… it relaxes me… Don’t care for water invading every part of my body… like being buried alive.”

A quiver passed across his entire body, and all the tiny droplets flew free.

“That’s better.” He muttered.

Paul wiped the spray off his face. “Good. Kneelength, any idea where we are?”

“Underwater.”

Paul looked up at the strange ceiling they’d just dropped through. It was water - a moving, rippling, sea… He shook his head. “I’m not sure what not to believe in these days. Think this is what Moses felt like in the Red Sea?”

“You believe those stories?” Syth said, staring up at him.

“We’ve seen things people would say aren’t possible. Where’s your line of belief? Nothing in that book’s unbelievable to me anymore.”

“That’s fair. I still have my doubts.”

“Then it’s not the miracles that stop you?”

“I guess not,” Syth responded. He shivered a little.

“I like caves an’ all,” Kneelength interrupted, “but I’m not a fan of this. Le’s find a more… solid roofline.”

Paul gazed up at the strange hovering wall of water. “Agree.”

“Any ideas on this?”

Syth shook his head. “Water forms a barrier between most realms… but it also seeks its own level. I guess it’s doing the same here, but how it can stand in a heap…”

Paul gazed up at the strange dark ceiling. Ripples and waves stirred its surface. “Eerie.”

Kneelength nodded, gazing up. “Ya aint kiddin.” He yawned. “Feeling a bit drained down here. ‘ts like the energy’s been pulled outta the world.”

Something darked moved above them. “I don’t want to know what creatures live in that water.”

Kneelength lifted his glowing arm high, but they could barely see through the ceiling of dark water.

“Probably blind,” Syth responded, pulling his wings tight around himself.

“Large, cold, and blind. Reminds me of a few creatures I’ve seen through the years. Did we ever track down that froglike creature that got out in Louisianna?”

Syth shook his head. “No. Though I tracked legends to Ohio. Probably migrating.”

“And that strange colony of barnacle-like creatures?”

“Yah, they moved off to some other island. They’re living in some sort of canyon.”

Something pale moved above them. They trio paused, staring up through the murky depths, the strangeness illuminated by an eerie greenish glow. Tadpole like, it twisted and gyred in the murk. 

“Oh… this is gonna stink…” Paul groaned.

“What?”

Then it burst down upon them.

Its bulbous body struck the ground before a tiny, floppy tail twitched free of the water and dropped harmlessly behind it. 

Paul and the others stepped back as the gooey, oversized head pivoted and twisted, trying to right itself. Small, vestigial legs kicked vainly, a little tail twitched.

“Appropriate to call it a tadpole, I think.”

“What’s it trying to do, goo us to death?” Kneelength asked. He reached out the spectral hand and poked at the monstrous blob.

It stopped moving.

“Leave it alone,” cautioned Paul.

“It’s fine. Can’ harm us if it can’ reach us.”

Syth’s wings slowly twisted up and around, the barbs fusing together into his more aggressive form. “Stay away from it.”

Kneelength poked at the reeling mass. Its tiny little mouth opened and closed, whether it was trying to chomp at them with some tiny teeth or trying to breathe, they couldn’t guess.

“C’mon, it’s so pathetic.”

Something shifted above them.

His hand mid-poke, Kneelength looked up. In the glow from his spectral appendage, they could barely discern another large tadpole hovering above them, just on the other side of the water barrier. Then another. And another. Dozens were pressing against the water, watching them.

Then, in unison, they all blinked.

“Wait… they blinked…”

“Those aren’t tadpoles.”

Something large was staring at them with dozens of large tadpole-sized eyes.

“Run!”

Something burst through the water, a monstrous tentacle of some sort. It scooped up the now-screaming tadpole and flopped it back up into the waterline. A series of bubbles flowed down from the attack, frother and spilling across the surface. Gravity seemed to invert, and viscera and blood sprayed down on them from the water above.

“Run!”

The tentacle swooped around, but Kneelength’s spectral arm quickly struck back, severing the end of the appendage, causing it to recoil back into the roiling ceiling. 

“Can’ hold this on much longer.”

He was staggering, about to pass out.

Paul scooped him up almost effortlessly with one hand, his axe firmly clenched in the other.

“Go, go, go!”

Two more tentacles ruptured down from above. The ceiling was alive with them.

Syth leapt up and over, stabbing out at two before flipping around a third.

Paul felt parts of himself growing until the axe seemed a small toy in his hand. He punched, hard. It caught the membranous flesh of the tentacle, almost tearing it free as it did. The bruised and bloody skin peeled back, exposing the ooze-drenched muscle beneath. Paul’s hand returned to about twice its normal size, enough to give his axe and extra kick, and struck again, severing the flesh that remained and sending a writhing tentacle spinning and twitching off into the darkness.

Syth dove under another strike, then everything went silent, save for the sliding, twitching arms that had already been cut free.

Kneelength was unconscious. Syth was covered in ooze and blood, and Paul’s hand was slowly deflating as they watched the massive form slither above them.

Two eyes opened and gazed down at them.

Paul felt his fist clenching around the haft of the axe.

“What are you thinking?” Syth asked.

“Well, we could drive it off for a while. How long do you think this lake is?”

“No telling,” Syth responded, eying the axe in Paul’s hand.

“You’re surely not thinking of riling it up, are you?”

“I prefer thinking of it as driving it off. It’s already riled up.”

And before Syth could get another word out, Paul heaved the axe with all his strength. It flew straight up into the water, broke seamlessly through the water barrier, and struck deep into the eye of the waiting beast. The creature made what must have been a shriek and vanished up into the darkness.

“See.”

Then exploded back down at them.

“Brothers! To arms!”

An explosion rocked the cavern, lifting pebbles from all around them. The tentacle reaching for Paul was immediately turned inside out, filling the air with a gorey spray. Paul ducked as another exploded.

“Again! Drive it back up into the heights!”

In a moment, all was silent once more. For good, this time.

Paul wiped the splotches of ooze and gore from his body and turned to Syth. The devil was scowling at him. Ichor dripped from his body, but more than that, he looked every square inch a drenched cat. “Not a word…” he threatened.

Several beings approached them. “Who are you, and how have you come here?”

“We fell.”

They looked at Paul. He nodded and pointed up at the sea above them. “We fell from above.”

“Someone came down from the heights,” the guard gasped in wonder. “And brought one of the dark ones with them!”

“Dark ones?”

The guard pointed at Syth. “We’ve only heard of him in legends whispered around the forges of lower Oni’ja! But exile’s been long. We have long lost contact with our kin. Come, we must get your help, and leave the Deep Thing’s lair.”

Paul gazed up and just barely saw something swimming high above them, its one remaining eye glowing in the darkness. A single glow watched him. He’d made an enemy that day.

“This way”

Syth was already following him. “Dark One? I’m a Dark One?”

Paul gazed up, watching the pod of tadpole-like creatures swirling just above the water’s surface. Then he slipped after the others, Kneelength sleeping on his back. The water above slowly transitioned into a stone ceiling as the tunnel sloped downward, becoming a network intricate carvings interspersed here and there by a delicate arrangement of flameless lanterns, lighting the area from strange angles.

The path slowly widened into a broad metal-paved road.

Syth paused.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something is off about this.” He touched the pathway with a hoof.

“You are safe, Dark One,” a guard reassured him, “the path is steel.”

“Steel?”

“Yes, to keep various elf clans from entering. Those who caused us this misery can not walk the ways of these metals, so we pave our roads with them so that, with their passing, they cannot enter thereby.”

Syth nodded. “So general fae folk are not prohibited.”

“Correct. Though we know some of the realms will be harmed, we target only those of Andren’s constitution, prohibiting them from entering this way. Their bloodied ways almost doomed us in the past, and his violent attempts to take realms by force have only steeled our resolve, as it were.”

“And who is this Andren?”

“You have lived so long on this world and you know not of this demonic being?”

“I’m afraid not,” Paul replied. “Not much news from other realms reaches earth.”

“Thanks to your barriers,” interjected Syth.

The guard shrugged and looked at his companion. “I am unaware of what to say here, or what would be safe to say. He was a ruler of our original world, until he sealed himself and his race away in a fortress, biding his time until he could invade us once more. From thence he sent his spies - his Constellations, he called them - until he was assured of our locations and power.”

“And what happened after that?”

“No one is certain. Some say he reenergized the Nexus portals and rules from his old realm. Others say his generals broke free and are now plotting revenge against him. It is uncertain. But he is an everpresent danger. Come, we must continue.”

The metal road stretched off into a void.

“Where are we going?” Paul asked.

“You’ll see. Come.”

The guards strolled out across the bridge, Syth, Paul, and Kneelength in tow. The tall guards strode on before them, and as the bridge rose up and began to descend, they saw it far out in the depths - a glittering golden city - a sphere of golden crystal.

“How?”

A guard noticed them staring and chuckled. “Humans are always so disbelieving.”

“An upside-down lake, a cavern with a steel bridge leading to an invisible city, and now an underground crystal city built in the shape of a sphere? I guess I’d ask what there even is to believe, much less disbelieve,” Syth asked.

“You are a man who became a Dark One,” the guard responded calmly. “I would imagine you’ve seen your share of unbelievable things.”

“Yes, but none insulted the laws of the world as deeply as this city does.”

The guard looked around at the spherical city. Large structures grew off in all directions, as if the entire city had been built then carefully wrapped around a ball before being connected to the sides of the massive cavern with these arching steel bridges.

“It will make more sense once you arrive. Come. I will take you to the king.”

As they approached the city, the streets seemed to flatten until they were walking on a straight surface. Roads, alleys, bridges, and every other accoutrement of city life spanned out around them, the only hint of the roundness found in the vaulting cavern high above that wrapped across the sky and vanished below the skyline.

“Welcome to Telos.”

Spanning buildings stretched up around them.

“It’s nothing much,” the guard apologized. “But it’s our home away from home. When the moon landed on Lemuria, we fled to here, and we’ve lived down here ever since, only receiving snippets from the other realms.”

“I’m sorry, did you say the moon landed on Lemuria?”

“Of course. Oni’ja wouldn’t allow anything that large to strike itself, so it was deflected off into the waters. Regrettably, the ensuing waves destroyed us.”

“A moon never hit earth.”

The guard paused. “Who said Lemuria was on earth?”

“Well, you’re here, so you must have fled the destruction of Lemuria and moved here.”

“Who says this is on earth?”

“You’re beneath Mount Shasta,” Paul explained.

“Yes,” the guard replied, as if to a child. “The entrance to Telos is beneath the mount you call Shasta, but that doesn’t mean anything. Tunnels stretch for hundreds of miles, some into other worlds.”

“So you have connection to the fairy realm here?”

“In a way, yes, and realms beyond, though they are harder to reach without certain devices.”

Large crystals floated around them.

“Barrier crystals…” Paul muttered.

The guard nodded. “You’ve seen them?”

“Yes.”

“They secure the barriers between the outer worlds and earth. We’ve secured them at energy nodes to protect your world.”

“But why?”

The guards paused at a crossroad. “There are things beyond your ken that lurk in the darkness of the inbetween. We keep it at bay.”

“For how long?”

“Maybe a thousand of your earth years. Hard to tell.”

They continued down into the heart of the city, leaving the barrier crystals behind. “And what role do the guardians have, then?”

“Guardians?”

“Spirits bound to the crystals.” Paul replied.

“I’m not sure,” the guard answered with a shrug. “I know of no guardians.”

“He was one.”

The guard stared at Syth. “Bound to a crystal?”

Syth nodded.

“I don’t know. Maybe Ger’maine will.”

“Ger Maine?”

“Yes, he’s the keeper of the crystals.”

The guard led them up a winding side street, it was paved with some sort of burnished steel, cut in the pattern of cobblestones. A layer of dust coated the surface to give the impression of it actually being made of rock.

“He is inside.”

“You’re not coming with us?”

“We’ll wait for you here, then we will take you to the Lord of the city.”

Paul pushed open the door. It was thick-work, carvings of various beasts and creatures rimmed its edge, with small pedestal crystals recessed here and there, representing some sort of network. It was all weathered and faded - Ger’maine had lived here for a long time.

And it smelled like it.

The musty smell of … Paul tried to identify it… It was the mixture of a lab and a library. On one hand, the stench of various probably-toxic chemicals struck the nose, while little notes of forests - a sting of pine, the sweetness of citrus - it was almost as if he’d used some sort of plant-based substance to clean his house, as it seemed to ooze from the surroundings. And then the must of leather, and there was a hint of paper. Was that … he tried to smell it again, but the only thing he could describe it as was the smell just after he struck a match.

Here and there around the house were piles of old books - scrolls, tomes, loose leafs of paper, a few bindings that looked to have been sewn together, long cords standing prominently from the spines. He thought he saw one with a cover made of some sort of skin.

“Welcome to my laboratory. I take it you are the newcomers that fell through water and the sky?” a tall, thin, muscular man said. A row of glowing tattoos ran across his torso, and the only clothing he wore was a leather vest-like tunic and torn-off pants. A cord belt wrapped around his waist, holding an assortment of bottles, tools, and other equipment. A long knife rested against his thigh.

He tugged at his fingerless gloves and eyed them.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it.” Paul replied.

“Is your friend hurt?” The tall elf, for that was apparently what this man was, nodded just behind Paul. Kneelength.

Paul had forgotten that the bearded man had been asleep on his back this entire time.

“He’s fine. He was trapped in the fairy realm for quite some time, and it left him with a few side effects.”

“To put it mildly.” Interjected Syth.

Ger’maine drew out a bottle from his belt, popped it open, and poured the concoction onto his hands. In a smooth motion, he rubbed them together, shook the excess off, and then stoppered and replaced the bottle. “Let me see him. How’d he get trapped in my realm?”

“Your realm?”

“I created the bubble - what you call the fairy realm - probably a millenia ago. Used a network of crystals… you know the story. The guards can’t stop blabbing it to anyone who shows up. Isn’t that right!?” He shouted. 

A guard peaked his head in apologetically. “Sorry, lord.” Then he vanished back around the door.

“It was an experiment gone wrong, to be honest. I was attempting to stabilize this region, and my experimentation expanded a little farther than I intended. I was able to get it all under control, but it took a few fits and starts, as it were.”

The elf removed his leather vest and tugged on a clean white shirt. Golden filigree ran down the breast - some sort of winged motif, but not of any creature Paul knew. It was a wing of spines - similar to Syth when he tried to use his as weapons. The shoulders had some sort of network of symbols running down to the wrists, which Ger’maine was tugging and straightening.

“You’ll forgive my slovenly appearance.” He stepped around the corner, and it was obvious he was changing out of his work pants and into something more regal. And when he reappeared, he was wearing a long, glistening jacket and dark pants. Everything had the same intricate gilding - careful work that had some sort of arcane meaning they could only guess at.

The coat’s high collar grazed the elf’s short-cropped white hair in the back, wrapped around and vanished into the winged filigree. 

“That’s more like it,” he said, finally. “Now, what is it you wished to discuss?”

“We were told you’d know more about the protective crystal network.”

“I can. What do you want to know?”

“We were told there were no guardians.”

“A guardian?”

“Yes. Syth was one.”

Ger’maine shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my friends. I never instituted guardians for any part of the network. I monitor it all from here. Sometimes, my agents patrol if needed.”

“I was sealed to those woods my whole life.”

Ger’mained eyed Syth. “You were trapped by the force of the crystal?”

Syth shrugged. “Apparently. I don’t have an answer.”

“And when did you go free?”

“When Paul destroyed the barrier. It created a shockwave that destabilized that point.”

The elf turned to Paul. The large man was normally the tallest one around, but Ger’maine still stood seemingly a foot or more higher than him. “What’s this about you destroying the barrier?”

“I was under threat, so I did what I needed to.”

“You didn’t use one of the many gateways I provided?”

“I was being threatened, so I acted the best I knew how.”

“And you destroyed one of the anchors?”

“Yes.”

“Humph!” explained the elf. He turned and walked to his shelves. “Follow me. We need to deal with this. The dwarf can sleep on that chair until we get back. And Dark One, don’t touch anything until we get to the bottom of this.” He found a certain spot on the shelf, and with motions Paul could’t track, activated some sort of mechanism. The entire unit swung back, revealing a tunnel behind. “Come.”

They obeyed, slipping through the secret door and down a long, silver-limned staircase.

Paul’s boots and Syth’s nearly-silent hooves were the only sound echoing as they spiraled down into the depths below Ger’maine’s house. The stairwell soon broadened out into a wide sitting room. Along the walls were tall bookcases carved into the shapes of trees, branches stretching up to the ceiling and acting as archways. Small gems formed the keystone of each arch, somehow also providing an inviting, flickering light. In between the bookcases, growing like branches on a tree, were long railings, separating what seemed to be an upper library and sitting area from a sprawling complex below, also lit by the same flickering lights. Here and there, broad fields of white light illuminated a tiled floor, its mosaic intricate and confusing from this height.

Ger’maine led them on to one of these railings. He pointed far below.

“This is a map of the energy network of this world. I laid down these ribbons myself, pinning them in place with those crystals you so barbarically destroyed.”

He paused a moment, and a grid of interconnected lines flared to life below them. “So… eastern region, midcoast…” 

A moment of silence hung over them.

“There.” he pointed a long finger toward the middle of the map. Bluish lines traced here and there, intersecting at the nodes from several directions. This node in particular was a slight purple hue, as if it had turned red and had been slowly cycling back to blue.

“Why’s it that color?”

“It’s been ‘bruised,’ I guess you could say. It’s trying to recover.”

“I broke it, though,” Paul replied.

“Yes, but a single weapon-blow isn’t enough to destroy it for good. You would have to contaminate it, maybe even invert the bindings on it.” Ger’maine explained. Paul watched in confusion as he rattled off several other things that would have to happen before a node was permanently removed. “There is some sizeable taint in that region - a leeching of the spirit realm into the fairy realm, a little of the inbetween creeping in as well.” The elf paused, mid-sentence. “That’s curious…”

“What?”

He leaned back from the railing and opened the side of a nearby bookcase. A spiral staircase extended to the floor below.

“What happened?”

“Something’s wrong.” Ger’maine replied as he vanished down the staircase. Paul and Syth exchanged confused glances and followed.

The elf strode across the map, stopping at several nodes. Finding them healthy, he continued, node by node.

“I haven’t had the need to come down here for some time,” he explained. “But…” he strode out across to the purplish node where the Pine Barrens apparently was. “This is your home?” he asked Syth.

Nod.

He looked around. “There should be a node here.” he said walking up the map and off to the left. “You can see the channels where the lines used to trace. They’ve rerouted, and these locations are a slight bit brighter than they should be.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m not completely sure. Maybe someone found a way to reverse the energy - completely disabling this particular node in its entirety.”

The nodes around where the vanished one had been all glowed substantially brighter than the ones farther away, as if they were absorbing more power. The purplish one from the Pine Barrens seemed to be fluctuating.

“Interesting…” Ger’mained muttered.

“What?”

“This node isn’t healing,” he said. “It’s… destabilizing.”

“How?”

“Not sure.” The elf stood over the spot. “You said that you were bound to this location?”

Syth nodded.

“And you were only freed once the barrier broke down?”

“Yes.”

“Any other side effects? Any weakness, fainting, things like that?”

“I’ve had to actually start sleeping and eating.” Syth replied.

“So a return to mortality.”

“Return to mortality?”

Ger’maine pointed at the node. “Something happened here to bind you to the node - the barrier, if you will. It became a…” he searched for the word, “...a give and take - a symbiosis, if you will. The role you call ‘Guardian’ I would refer to as ‘anchor,’ or ‘stabilizer.’ Your spirit was drawn there like a moth to a light, and you could not leave until that light was extinguished. As the light grows, you will find yourself bound to it again. Did you ever need to sleep or eat before?”

“No. I did just to pass the time, but never needed to. But why am I bound to it in the first place?”

“Not sure. I’ll add it to my list to research.”

“How long will that take?”

“I’m two thousand items into my research.”

“Out of how many?”

“Ten thousand, four hundred and twenty-six.”

“Great…”

  The elf stared down on the map again. “These nodes here… I didn’t make them.”

They were far off to the east - a small cluster of glowing lights all bunched together. 

“What is the real-world location?” Paul asked.

“I believe humans of that region call it…” he paused, as if running through a list in his brain. “Baikal?”

Paul felt a chill run down his spine. “I was told of this region, at least I think that was the name.”

“Really? Under what circumstances?”

“A spectre, I guess he’d be called, told me about giants imprisoned underneath the waters there. Could there be a connection?”

The elf nodded. “Yes, if they were big enough that would make sense. If these giants were the same as our friend here, bound to a specific region, then they could become assisting conduits of energy.”

“Is it dangerous to leave them?”

“I’d think more dangerous to free them, especially were they to become tainted. They would no doubt share that negative energy with any node they came in contact with.”

“So is Syth one of these conduits?”

Ger’maine looked to the map. “No. He’s not nearly large enough to contain any substantial amount from the lines. He’s more of a battery than a powered source.”

“So is the power coming from the outside of or from inside earth?” Syth asked, looking at the complex network. It reminded him of the fabled ley lines some had believed in - still believed in.

Ger’maine shrugged. “Not exactly sure. The power was already latent when we arrived - pooling in certain locations naturally, and I just…” he searched for the right word again, “... pinned it down at these locations to form the ‘bubble,’ or ‘net,’ to protect this world. It could be coming from the in-between or it could be something about the earth itself. With all the dimensional overlaps, I can’t rightly say. If I were to guess, I’d say from the earth itself. Perhaps the contamination is coming from outside.”

Paul rubbed his eyes.

Syth stepped forward. “So you’re saying my spirit is bound to that specific region, and the farther I go, the weaker I’ll become?”

“Apparently.”

“And you don’t know why.”

“I’m unaware of the reason yet.”

“But you’ll get to it.”

“Yes, quite soon.”

“Yes, of course.” Syth replied dryly. 

Paul gazed down at Baikal and the half-dozen small glowing nodes just a short distance from the main one. The strands formed a strange spiderweb like effect on the map. Then an idea came to mind.

“Ger’maine, if I may. Have you heard of a Blue Hole?”

The elf nodded. “Yes. Quite common around the world. A watery version of the fairy circle.”

“Wait, what did you just say?”

“The Blue Hole is a water version of the fairy circle. Please tell me you know what a fairy circle is?”

“Yes. Of course. But how is a Blue Hole related?”

“Simple. They’re both portals between worlds. Both able to be used to travel from place to place.”

“Do they both take you to the fairy realm?”

Ger’maine shook his head. “No. Different portals to different realms.” He sniffed. “You have been to both the spirit and the fairy realm, have you not?”

Paul nodded.

“And more than once…”

Paul nodded again. “I had to lay an old friend to rest.”

Ger’maine paused. “As in a human burial custom?”

“No. His spirit had been angered. I had to enter the spirit realm itself and calm him.”

“So he wasn’t human?”

“No. Animal.”

Germaine looked across the map again. “Where was this?”

“Black Hills.” Paul pointed to the rough approximation on the map - the best he could tell by comparing to the other locations the elf had mentioned.

The elf shuddered. “That spectre you mentioned…”

“Yes?”

“From whence does he hail?”

“He’s over two hundred years old, I’m not sure where he comes from originally, but he spends most of his time on the eastern edge of the States.”

The elf nodded. “I’ll be keeping an eye out for him then. That level of age and malevolence tends to… show up. Maybe he’s got something to do with all this.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Paul responded.

The elf eyed him quizzically.

“He’s the one who told me most of this stuff in the first place.”

“And how did he learn it?” Ger’maine asked.

Paul shrugged. “Not sure.”

“What does this spectre look like?” Ger’maine asked.

“Not too familiar,” Paul stated. “I’ve seen him in several forms, and always with a new face.”

“A new face.”

“Or no face at all.”

The elf scowled. “You’re saying…”

“He can change and remove his head at will.”

“Dullahan.”

At this, Syth perked up. “You’re saying he’s a dullahan?”

The elf shrugged. “Could be. Hard to say for sure.” Ger’maine sighed. “My friends, I’m afraid I must part with your stimulating company. This may require my full attention for some time.” With that, he whisked them back up the stairs and back into his sitting room, where he promptly closed the bookcase, sealing the map room. 

Kneelength still snoozed on the couch.

“Your friend here is suffering from severe withdrawal. Since he spent so much time in the fairy realm, I’m afraid he’s become ‘attuned’ to it. He must return or else he will persist in this half-life.”

“Is there nothing you can do?”

The elf thought for a moment, then rummaged around in a disordered pile of artifacts on his counter. A cloud of dust filled the air as he rifled through papers, journals, notebooks. A few bones toppled to the floor.

“Ah, there it is!” He produced a small amulet. “Not very original.”

“A fairy cross?” Paul asked.

Ger’maine’s gaze darkened. “And you know of these, too?”

Paul nodded.

“I’ve only mentioned these to a handful of humans through the years. They sought my help and I gave them these to aid with their symptoms. This is all troubling news.” His hands shaking slightly, the elf thrust the amulet at the man. “Take this and give it to your friend when you leave this place. It will connect him back to his realm and give him the ability to regain his strength naturally. Now, you must go. You have given me much to consider. I’ll call for you again if I find the answers you need. Now go, leave the city, and don’t return until I send for you.”

He showed them the door.

The guards came alongside the three.

“Please, show these three the way out of the city - the Bridgeway should be the safest path - and escort them back to the surface.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, Ger’maine closed the door and was gone.

“What did you tell him?” one of the guards asked, aghast.

“He seemed more on edge than I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve known him since we were exiled here. And the Bridgeway… why would he send you that way?”

“Are you going to take us back?”

The guard began to lead them away. “Yes, but the master of the city still needs to see you.”

“But, Ger’maine.”

The guard chuckled. “He’s protected us since we arrived, but he doesn’t not command all that occurs in these depths.”

“How long have you all been down here?” Paul asked.

“Probably a thousand of your earth years.”

“How fast does that pass for you?”

“I’ve lived a few hundred years, I guess. We simulate the sun and moon, so we have a semblance of the life cycle present, even if not the real thing.” one of the guards replied, pointing up to the glowing sky above them. “It will be ‘night’ soon.”

As they strolled, Syth finally spoke. “Why do you stay down here? What caused your exile?”

“Legend has it the moon struck the land, and in so doing, our whole world began to sink beneath the waves. As a final effort, our king was able to tear open a portal to this realm and seek sanctuary with those who were able and willing to follow.”

“What happened to the rest?”

“They perished beneath the waves.”

“Can you ever go back?”

The guard’s features darkened for just a moment. “There are those who say no, but those who promise yes.”

“I hope you find a way.”

“It is a long hope, but in time, we will have a way to return.”

The guards paused at a long bridge. “The king will see you.”

The bridge sloped over a lower section of the city, which stretched out below them, terminating at the upper storey of a broad cathedral-like building. Golden spirals wound up and around, probing the sky - or the strange approximation that was really a distant cave wall. A broad portcullis gate, like an upside-down toothy grin, was closed to them.

Then it opened.

A wave motif split in the middle, rising up and down as part of the doorway sank into the floor and part rose up into the top of the doorframe. Cool air flowed from inside, alerting Paul for the first time how warm it had been down here.

“You may enter.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

They stepped through the entrance into the chilled interior. Crystals of ice hung from above, venting a fog-like mist as the warm and cold met. Slick rivers of what appeared to icy rivers, frozen into the walls, traced along the entryway. They passed through a dense layer of fog, and the cool air seemed to invert.

“My apologies for not appearing in person. My responsibilities have called me elsewhere. I trust you are comfortable?”

Paul chuckled. “I’m not sure about the other two, but the ice crystals are a little much. Refreshing sometimes, but I wouldn’t say ‘comfortable.’”

“My apologies,” came the voice again. “I always forget the buildup.” A doorway opened to the side. “Please, enter.”

They obeyed. Passing through a rolling bank of fog as they entered a spacious garden. A tall elf met them. The was immaculate in a neatly-cut suit that reminded them of earth styles but seemed foreign in the long sleeves that stretched over both hands and the tall, triangular collar that rose up behind his scalp. His hair was combed back in an almost-humorous parody of a movie vampire. What was that recent film? Bella Lugosi had starred in a few recently.

Paul chuckled.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded with a smile. “Yes. Sorry.”

The elf seemed unsettled, but as he regained his composure, he held out his long-sleeved arms to the trio. “I am Herald to the King. He is unable to join you at this moment, but wishes to extend the warmest greetings.”

“Hence the entrance.”

Syth drove an elbow into Paul’s side.

“The King wishes to greet all Upsiders who find their way into our realm. We heard you had a little run-in with the Deep Thing.”

Paul thought of the tangled mess of arms and eyes he’d seen looming in that darkness.

“You could say that.”

“It’s a rare feat to survive that descent into our realm. And through the crystal ice no less. Most wander the caves and find another entrance, or they get lost in the tombs.”

Paul nodded. “It was an unexpected way to descend, to be sure.” He looked over at Syth, who was silently fuming.

“If our scouts are accurate, did you really drive the Deep Thing away by… stabbing it in the eye with a lumberjack axe?”

Paul nodded with a wry smile. “Yeah. I may have done that.”

“Then the king hopes you’ll be agreeable to his proposal.”

“I lost my axe, sorry. Looks like I can’t take out the thing’s other eye.”

“Nothing quite so mundane, I’m afraid,” replied the Herald. “We have reports of strange things moving around in the tunnels of late, and were hoping you could help us. You and your friends seem uniquely suited, given your distinct lack of height and proclivity for physical violence.”

“And your kind is not violent?” Paul responded, a bit of wonder in his voice?

“Not typically, no.” Replied the Herald.

“You just don’t get mad enough?”

The elf shrugged. “We’ve been forced to live together in this small world. Cooperation and trust is paramount, and thus we have not honed the ability to fight and kill as you humans have.”

Paul nodded. “I guess that’s fair.”

“What do you need us to do?” Syth asked.

“Ah,” replied the Herald, as if seeing Syth for the first time. “I’d wondered what appearance you had taken on this plane. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Ignoring the sort-of-compliment, Syth pressed again. “What do you need of us?”

“There is a network of tunnels - the ones most use to descend to us. They’ve been oddly silent of late, and I know it is not that the curiosity of your kind has abated. With all the mystics and theorists above, I know there are no shortage of humans approaching our realms. We usually find ways to weed them out, turn them around, and send them back to the surface in frustration. But we’ve not seen anything in perhaps years. I’m worried.”

“About humans?”

“Yes. As much of an annoyance as you can be, it is nonetheless our job to protect your kind from what hunts them. And we’ve done well up until now. However, if the tunnels have become infested, we need the likes of you to clear them out.”

Paul quirked an eyebrow. “So… we’re your mercenaries now?”

“I guess you could use that term. It is brutal and archaic, but it holds enough truth. Clear these tunnels and we’ll open up passage to other worlds for you. There are tunnels leading through this entire continent. If it’s safe to travel, then we can help you.”

“Answer me one question first,” Paul requested.

“What?”

“Are there really mole men?”

Syth grabbed Paul by the arm and led him out before the Herald could respond.

“He wasn’t kidding.”

The tunnels went on forever - a labyrinth under the mountains - miles and miles of tunnels. Several closest to the city were lit by those strange, heatless lamps - they seemed to grow from the surrounding stone - and every path was paved with metals. This was apparently “Copper Road,” as opposed to “Steel Road,” or whatever metal they had used to enter.

“If elves are allergic to metals, couldn’t they just wear shoes?” Kneelength asked with a yawn. He leaned on his staff. “I never understood it.”

“I don’t know,” Paul responded. “Maybe they can’t be in the presence of it?”

Syth strode along. “Do you think they can shapeshift? Remember when he said he didn’t expect me to be in this form? Maybe some of these beings can swap?”

“Like Cole?”

“Cole steals forms. I’m wondering if some of these creatures can actively camouflage. Like a werewolf, but more of an illusion rather than full curse-transformation.”

Paul regarded his broad hand. “I can shift - granted it’s just growing larger. Merge mine and Kneelength’s powers and you have the ability. I think it’s definitely possible.”

Something shifted in the darkness.

“There.”

Syth paused. “I don’t see anything.”

Paul pointed. “There, at the corner.”

They rushed forward. Draped against the side of the cave was a body.

“Dead?”

Syth nodded. “Lemurian by the looks of it. Head cleanly torn off.” 

“What was he doing this far from the city?”

“He was dragged here. No blood.”

“Oh, don’t tell me we found a food cave.” Kneelength groaned. “Almos’ got dragged into one when I lived in the fairy realm. Band of Pale Crawlers got me.”

“The ones that ate your arm?”

“Different time.”

“How often were you almost eaten?”

“Quite often.”

Syth looked around. “I think this one was abandoned. This isn’t a food cave - at least I don’t think.”

The body was dry and desiccated.

“Look, drained of blood and left here. Almost mummified.”

“So was the head ripped off after death?”

“Maybe. Nothing’s been around here for some time.”

The dirt was undisturbed. No footprints, no dragmarks. Nothing.

Paul rummaged around the body.

“What are you doing?”

“Maybe there’s some identifying mark so we can let the others know.”

They found a small chip of metal - like a flat token. Paul pocketed it.

“Who knows? It might be helpful to know how long he’s been down here.”

They stepped away from the body and chose a path at random, continuing down the dark trails.

“Do you have any idea what we’re looking for?”

“You mean besides the dead bodies? I dunno, something large and deadly with sharp claws and pale skin?”

Syth and Paul stared at Kneelength.

“What? I told you. Those little devils were what ate my arm!” He waved the stub that was all that remained of his left arm. He prodded it with a finger. “My arm belly button was formed by stitching the flesh together because they snapped off the bone and left a ragged loop of flesh. You could say I’m not a fan.”

Something shifted again.

“I hate tunnels…” Syth muttered.

A large silhouette moved in the darkness.

Paul reached for his axe, forgetting it was still embedded in the eye of that creature. He drew his hand axe instead. Syth bristled, the barbs on his wings angling forward slightly. Kneelength looked as if he were just trying to stay conscious.

“What are you doing down here?”

It was a lemurian. His head nearly grazing the ceiling, armed with a long spear-like weapon, the elf strode out of the darkness and hurried toward them.

“You shouldn’t be here. I don’t know how you got past me, but you need to turn around and go back to the surface.”

“We just came from Telos.”

“That can’t be the case. You came from the surface. Telos does not exist.”

Syth used his slender hands to push back his hood. “Do I look like a normal human?”

The lemurian blanched, his normally-pale skin turning practically translucent. “A Dark One?”

“So your people have said. Tell us what’s going on.”

The tall elf-like being regarded them suspiciously. “I’m not sure.”

“The Herald to the King has given us this task. He said that no humans have been stumbling into the caverns, and that he’s both suspicious and worried that something might be killing them in these caves. We found one of your soldiers, headless, in the tunnel. Now, will you tell us what’s going on?”

“Headless?”

“Yes, but he hadn’t been killed there. There was no blood.”

“And no drag marks, so he’s been there for quite some time.”

The elf leaned against the wall.

There was a pregnant pause, then he finally stated, “Follow me.”

“You got Pale Crawlers down here?” Kneelength finally asked.

“Pale what?”

“Not sure if that’s their name… they’re pale, long arms, crawl around - look like hairless humans ‘t haven’t eaten in a while.”

“No, not to my knowledge.”

Kneelength nodded. “Okay. That’s good. Devilish things. They ate my arm.”

The Lemurian turned with a slightly shocked gaze and regarded the stub of Kneelength’s left arm. “Wh-where did you said you were from?”

“Me?” Kneelength responded. “Oh, I’m from New York.”

Something crunched under foot. Paul stooped. “What’s this?”

The trail was lined with small metal rectangles.

“Oh, that.” The Lemurian nodded. “It’s a monument.”

“To what?”

“Those we’ve lost down here.”

Paul ran his fingers along the floor. Dozens of the small disks coated the floor. “Each one represents a loss?”

“Yes.”

“How long has your squad been down here in these caves?”

“Hard to tell when you don’t have the measures of Telos. Feels like years. These are just the ones that we’ve confirmed. Many more are missing.”

They rounded the corner and Paul stopped. “Is this place real?”

“I assure you it is.”

Two stone archways stretched out into a broad spherical stone room. One bridge connected this tunnel to a central island, and another shot off and vanished around a massive column of stone that seemed to form the far walls of this cavern. An interminably high ceiling rose above them, dotted with something that glowed.

“Welcome to the Bridgeway.”

“Is that Foxfire?”

The Lemurian jumped slightly, as if he hadn’t realized Syth’s presence, then recovered. He regarded the ceiling. Small pockets of glowing… something… scattered here and there, twinkling above them. “I’m not sure what you call it. It is a plant we cultivate for its beauty and its subtle light. The kitsune of Oni’ja are known for producing the best strains.”

At that answer, a slight smirk rose up on the side of Paul’s face.

“Wha’s a kitsune?”

“They are residents of Oni’ja –”

“What’s Oni’ja.”

“Our home city.”

“So, Telos?”

“No, where we originally came from.”

“So, Lemuria?”

The tall elf regarded Kneelength with fleeting frustration.

Paul apologized. “He’s been away from his realm a long time. I’m surprised he’s even still awake.”

“Being away from New York does this to people?”

“It’s an East Coast thing…” he turned to Kneelength. “Lemuria was the original name for their city near Oni’ja.”

“Sure.”

“And Telos is their new city here where we are.”

Syth looked up into the ceiling. “Why do you cultivate foxfire here of all places?”

“It reminds us of where we come from. These were once a retreat for us, a reminder of our homeland.”

“Was Lemuria underground as well?”

“Yes.”

“Then when the moon hit…”

“It broke through our barriers and flooded everything. Almost all of our people drowned that day. Only those in the inner city were close enough to the portal to escape before everything was submerged.”

“And no one helped?”

“No one knew what was happening until too late.”

They strolled up and over the bridge. Dozens more of the identification plates lined the edge, shimmering lightly in the glow of the foxfire.

“So many dead…”

“Do any of your people live in Bridgeway?”

The lemurian shook his head. “Not anymore. It was once a pilgrimage site of great importance, rescued from the core of our lost land and brought here with us. The roads formed by the two bridges intersected at a large monument. It was a sprawling fairy circle, complete with oversized mushrooms carved from some sort of crystal. In the center was what looked like a portal frozen in ice.

“This was the point where we entered this realm. Telos is obviously where we settled and is more accurately the more powerful central hub of our society. Ger’maine has done wonders stabilizing all the connections that bind our realities together. But this site has always been holy to us.”

The paths stretched off before them across the stone island, coming to an end in a beautiful little park. Small bits of ivy and moss coated everything except the monument, and the slight wet shimmer only added to the magical aire of the place.

“Please, have a seat, and I will share what I know.”

They complied, and the moment Kneelength found a spot to rest, he was immediately asleep.

“Is your friend all right?”

“He spent too long in the fairy realm - now he sleeps a lot.” Paul replied, matter-of-factly.

The lemurian nodded and leaned his spear against a nearby rock. It had been carved into the shape of a tree, marking just one of many “trees” scattered around the island. He leaned over the sleeping man. “He is very sick. Have you seen Ger’maine?”

“Yes, he told us how we might heal him.”

The lemurian nodded. “Good. He knows much and is wise in these matters. But your friend looks especially ill. Whatever is keeping you from doing what Ger’maine said, you should finish it quickly.”

“That is actually what brought us to you,” Paul explained. He looked to Syth.

Syth continued to remain silent.

“We were asked to clear the tunnels. Your king is concerned as to why no travelers have been spotted.”

“You spoke to the king?”

“Someone calling himself the Herald.”

The lemurian nodded. “I see. I am worried for you all. You must leave this place as soon as possible.”

“But what if whatever killed your friend returns?”

“I’m not sure what you have been told, but I’m not worried that something foreign is killing you humans in the tunnels.”

“You think it’s one of your own?”

Paul turned to Syth.

The lemurian didn’t seem bothered by what had been said. He nodded. “My people are not known for violence or aggression. However, I’ve noticed a change lately. Suspicion, irritation… the fact that you found a headless warrior with no signs of a struggle or anything else.”

“It could have been a long time ago.” Paul observed.

“No,” the other replied. “I have traced through those tunnels a dozen times recently, and I have never found a body. It was disposed of there.”

“There are hundreds of tunnels.”

“Which I have mapped out to the minutest detail. I know exactly where you described is and how long it would take to walk.”

“So you can help us find the surface?”

He nodded and pointed off down the bridges. One had been theirs, coming from the distant cave opening in a far wall. The other ran to a long cliff which wound around up the side of a deep canyon and off into the dark distant beyond. Deep black water ran along its base.

“The way up is along that ledge, isn’t it?”

“The quickest way, yes.”

Paul saw Syth quiver instinctively. They both knew what would happen if he slipped off that path and landed in the water. Kneelength let out a groan. His skin had begun to grow an almost translucent pale, as if he were phasing into another reality.

The Lemurian’s gaze shifted nervously. “Was he like this before?”

Paul shook his head. “No.”

“Then something is causing him to reach toxic levels of withdrawal.”

“Then we go the high road.”

A nervous shift.

“What?”

The Lemurian pointed to the waters. “I’m sure you know what will happen should you fall?”

Syth nodded.

“Anything else?”

The Lemurian hesitated. “I’m not sure what else you’ll face that way. If my brothers have turned… then the wards we use to turn away the unwary might have been tampered with. I’m sorry, but that section was never part of my patrols. I don’t know what you will face.”

“And the king’s order?”

A look of hesitation, of pronounced grief, passed over the guard’s face. “You need to flee. That is all I can say on the matter. And here,” he handed Paul a small object. It looked remarkably similar to the token they had retrieved from the dead body, “if you need to ever connect with me, then show this token to Ger’maine, and he can find where I am.”

“Ger’maine can be trusted?”

“I have no doubt. Besides, if he is compromised, then we are all doomed anyway.”

Paul hoisted his pack and hefted Kneelength over the other shoulder. He produced a rope and passed it to Syth. “You know what to do.”

“Worked so great last time…”

“What other option do we have?”

Syth shrugged.

The Lemurian looked back toward the bridge where they had entered. He plucked his spear from the tree. “I’m sorry things had to be this way. I wish it was as simple as killing monsters in the tunnels beneath the mountain. I meant for this visit to our origins to be a restful, enlightening time. But I’m afraid those moments are a long time in coming. When you find my brothers, tell them Ta’mil still guards the Bridgeway.”

“Thank you for all your help.”

The Lemurian nodded. “I will see you when you return this way. Maybe, together, we will be able to root out the infestation that plagues these mountains, whatever it may be caused by.”

Paul nodded. The tall Lemurian stared off toward the far end of the bridge. “You need to go. Someone is here.”

Taking the rope tied to Syth in one hand and his friend in the other, Paul began to trek across the long bridge that led to the cliffside path. Ta’mil strode off toward the darkness, spear in hand.

“He’s going to die, you know.” Syth stated.

Paul nodded. “I know.”

“We could save him,” Syth was stating a fact, not trying to convince.

“I know.”

Kneelength let out a slight wheeze.

“He’s made peace with his decision. We have to do the same.”

They watched from the bridge as Ta’mil vanished into the darkness. When they didn’t hear anything further, they moved out of sight and found themselves on the cliffside path leading up and away from the Bridgeway.

“Think he’s right?” Paul asked after they’d gone far enough up the path to lose sight of the stone island far below. The ceiling rose precipitously above them, seeming to always be the same distance away the further they climbed.

“About traitors in their midst?” Syth replied. “Yes.”

Paul nodded. “Should we go back and warn Ger’maine?”

“He must already know. He did want us to leave the city immediately.”

“And the guards?”

Syth considered for a moment. “They knew about Bridgeway, and the fact that Ger’maine sought to send us here.”

Paul’s blood ran cold. “So the traitors will know, too.”

They hastened up the stairway as it traced up and ever up into the darkness. No other noises met their ears, save the crunching of their feet against stone and the rhythmic snoozing of Kneelength. The old man coughed again.

“He’s losing more color,” Syth warned.

“We’re going as fast as we dare.”

Then something dropped in front of them. It was dark and hairy, covered in matted black fur that seemed caked with mud or some other foulness. The smell of fetid decay rolled off of it - not the pronounced stench of death as Tree Walker had been, but the rancid scent of something had had feasted on corpses and had never once plucked a blood-stained bit of flesh from its rotten beard.

A single eye opened, causing Paul to panic for a moment. But this creature was on land, and had truly only been born with a single eye. If there had ever been a second eye in that head, it had long since been sealed over by matted fur.

A roar came from somewhere below the neck.

“What is it?”

Syth shook his head, his face awash with disgust.

The single eye lolled uselessly in its head, a pale white orb.

“Is it blind?”

As if in response, the head pivoted toward Paul, but the eye didn’t follow. It was tracking them by sound.

With a low, gutteral, open-mouth choke of a roar, the creature stalked forward, using its elongated arms as a sort of second set of legs. Clawed knuckles rested on the ground.

Syth stepped back, but Paul pulled the rope tight. “Remember what happens when you fall…”

“Like I could forget?” Syth hissed.

The creature shuffled forward, sniffing at the air.

“Hard to smell over your own stench,” Syth whispered to Paul’s mind. “Keep silent, I’ll keep an eye on its movements.”

Paul nodded. For once, the intrusive whisperings of the Jersey Devil were welcome.

“There, to the right. You see that stone?”

Paul nodded.

“Toss it back behind it.”

Paul released the rope and slowly stretched out toward the creature. A sizeable stone lay between them. Gingerly, he plucked it from the ground, cringing at the scraping sound.

The creature’s blind eye locked where the sound had originated, and it hissed.

Paul gently set Kneelength down and used both hands to raise the large stone above his head.

“Now!”

He heaved.

And his feed slid out from under him.

With a cry, he went down on all fours. The rock fell free from his hand, clattering loudly against the steps before beginning to slide noisily down the staircase.

The creature leapt after it, half-chasing the falling rock while also diverting the slightest attention to Paul’s location.

As it trotted past on all fours, Paul froze, letting the chaos of the impromptu rockslide draw the beast’s attention.

“Good, that did it. Now, let’s get mo–”

Before he could finish the thought, a new clatter of stones began. Paul shot his gaze toward Syth just in time to see a length of rope flick over the edge and drop into the darkness.

With barely a moment to think, Paul lunged, clearing the loose pile of rubble nearby and sending himself sailing into the void. Syth was dropping like the unfortunate stones he’d been standing on, and as he dropped, he fought with the cloak, trying to open his wings to arrest his fall.

The lumberjack toppled like a log from the splitter. Teeth clenched, he tucked his arms and legs, extending one hand out to try to grasp the stiff end of the falling rope.

“Gotcha!”

His hands clenched around the thick rope. Another shot out to the cliff face, trying anything to dig into the rock face and arrest both their falls before they struck the dark water below.

Pain ripped through his arm as a fingernail ripped free, skin flaked off, and thick muscles stretched, trying to stop both their weight on the strength of a few desperate fingers. He slowed, but the rock face surrendered to their weight, and they fell again.

Another grasp with fingers slicked by fresh blood.

Paul heaved, pulling Syth up, and bit down on the rope. He could feel the strain against his teeth, but ignored the pain, reaching up with another mighty hand, trying to slow their slide with what he could only hope would be another handhold.

Two hands tensed against the cliff face, the legendary cryptid hanging from a rope, Paul hung.

Spittle flecked as they came to a stop. The water was nearly within reach, Syth dangling over it like a worm on a string.

Something darker than the surrounding gloom moved under the surface. Syth’s cloak finally fell free, and the cloth dropped for a second onto the still-rippling surface. Something split the darkness, and the cloak vanished with nary an extra ripple.

Syth’s wings opened, and he began to flap as both their lives depended on it.

A dark eye opened just beneath the water.

Paul knew that eye.

Something slithered across the now-still pool.

“Syth, we need to get off this face, now!”

Syth looked down as he beat his wings, slowly gaining altitude. He apparently didn’t see what was moving far below.

“Now!”

Syth’s weight now lifted, Paul released the rope from his teeth and began to scrabble, painful handhold by painful handhold, up the rocky face.

Then the tentacles exploded up from the darkness.

The creature was back for revenge.

Paul felt fingers dig into his back, and immediately his load was lightened.

Syth was hefting him bodily back up the wall as the tentacles shot from beneath. They seemed intent on Paul, ignoring Syth completely.

And then all was silent again.

They lay on an outcropping. Paul’s heart thudded in his chest, threatening to explode. Syth sat beside him, wings outstretched, waiting for a single tentacle to crest the lip. Spines stood out along their edges.

“Thank you.”

Paul nodded and leaned back. “D-don’t mention it.”

A single rock clattered from above.

“Ah, crap…” Paul groaned, and looked up.

That creature had heard the commotion, and was coming to investigate, its blind eye leading on, gazing this way and that.

“I wish I had a pistol right now.”

“What moron would shoot a gun in a cave,” Syth replied.

Paul chuckled. “Point taken.”

But the creature was descending fast, somehow glaring in their direction with its sightless eye. Long claws, like those of a sloth, raked at the cliff face as it sped in their direction. Paul raised his hands in fists - they were the only weapons he had.

Syth’s blades extended, but he was preoccupied with the encroaching tentacles from below, stabbing and slashing as they explored the crevasses and surfaces. The pair was just high enough that the monstrosity below them couldn’t quite bring its full mass to bear.

Then the creature dropped from below.

Paul felt the weight strike, felt the hot breath, the stench of unwashed flesh and rot. He retched and pushed at the beast, not daring to use any abilities for fear that the cliff face would collapse beneath them. If he lost Syth to that water, he’d never be able to find him.

Claws raked at his unprotected arms, striking toward his face.

Syth rounded, leveling a powerful kick at the beast before swirling back to face the creeping tentacles again.

Paul scrambled back up as the beast reared up and lunged.

He planted a swift blow at the creature’s chest, the matted fur absorbing more of the strike than he intended. He roared around with the other, planting a fist in the monster’s throat. It staggered back, flailing out with its clawed hands. One barely missed Paul’s face, clipping just the edge of his beard. He pushed his advantage, channeling just enough strength to his blow to compensate for the matted fur, and was rewarded with a slight crack from somewhere in the beast’s chest.

Then he struck the unprotected stomach, and his fist sank into the region, as if there were a hole.

Not pausing to consider the ramifications of this discovery, Paul dodged under several furious swipes before landing a final, cracking blow alongside the monster’s face. It topples slightly.

“Syth!”

The devil swirled, looping the creature with his tail and dragging it toward the edge. Dazed, the beast attempted to crawl away, but Syth was too fast. He dragged it within range of the lip, just as the tentacle probed again.

It found the matted fur around the leg, and as they watched, a series of large tooth-like spines appeared around one of the suction cups. It buried these into the unguarded leg and with a final cry, the blind monster was dragged down over the lip and into the depths below.

Paul pulled himself as far away from the ledge as he could, Syth likewise.

The pair paused long enough to catch their breath and wait for another attack to come. But it was silent.

“Head back up?”

Syth nodded. “Just a moment…”

“Agreed.”

When the finally made it back to Kneelength, he was still sleeping, but parts of him had started to fade even further. A section of his other arm had begun to vanish, a foot was completely gone, and one ear. 

Paul hoisted him up, gave one passing glance around, looking for his lost pack, and decided to leave it behind. “We don’t have any time to waste.”

And the trek continued, ever upward.

Kneelength coughed again, his breath coming in wheezing gasps.

The staircase wound around and around, ever higher, until it finally terminated before a large door.

“What do we do?”

Syth stepped up and began to run his hands along the surface. “His chip.”

“What?”

“Give me the metal tokens you collected. Look. There’s a slot here and here.”

Paul fumbled in his pockets, finally finding them. “Glad I didn’t stick them in my bag.” He handed them over.

Syth examined the small metal tokens, then raised one, slotting it into the left side of the door. He traced his fingers along the edge, finding another slot, where he was able to fit the second one.

“Now, the cross.”

Paul unlooped the fairy cross from around his neck, and Syth placed it up in the center of the door.

“He knew we had the other token?”

“No doubt.”

“Why didn’t he ask for it back?”

Syth shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The door rumbled.

“Give it a push.”

Paul pressed his shoulder into the door and heaved. It creaked slightly, dirt and debris trickling down on them both. Paul dug his toes into the dirt and pushed again, attempting to gain enough traction to overcome whatever was on the other side. The door creaked further. Something slid out of the way on the other side.

Syth retrieved the tokens and handed the cross back.

“I don’t think this is going to be pleasant.” Paul observed, squeezing through the door.

In the dim light slipping through the cracks in the door, they saw what could only be described as a food storage chamber - except the storage was obviously of humans.

Bones littered the floor in various states. Some had been chewed and remained unrecognizable. Others were still somewhat whole, arms and leg bones still connected enough to know it had belonged to a human at one point. A crushed skull sat in the center of the floor, the top of its scalp shorn off and the jaw shattered.

Even Syth appeared disturbed.

“What could have done this?”

Paul pressed the door closed behind them and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The light glow of the mushrooms provided just enough for him to see dozens if not hundreds of bodies’ worth of bones heaped up around. They had either run here and died or had been dragged here and eaten - either possibility was dreadful.

“What is happening here?”

Something shifted in the darkness.

Paul felt his fist clench. He slowly crouched, plucking a sharp bone from the ground.

The smell…

He knew what it was.

A hulking shape shuffled into view. It was larger than the one they’d dispatched deeper in the caves, nearly twice as wide and about another half taller. Its shaggy pale fur hung in stained heaps around its form like an old carpet that had been draped over a railing. Knotted clumps hung down around its clawed hands and shuffling feet. It sniffed the air.

The blind eye stared down the tunnel toward them, and it shuffled past, satisfied that the feeding cave was, indeed, devoid of life.

Then another passed by, and another. Some had two eyes, some had only one - but they were all blind, covered in caked blood, and armed with long, razor sharp claws.

Paul adjusted Kneelength’s form on his shoulder and took a step forward. The bones clattered quietly. He froze as another of the beasts stepped into view down the tunnel, sniffed, then wandered away. Paul pushed a skull out of the way with his foot and gingerly placed his foot where it had been.

His heart thundered in his chest. The sharpened bone was a pointy stick for all the good it would do him, but he clenched his fist tightly around it, knowing his life might depend on getting just the right blow with the business end of his impromptu weapon.

“We have to move.”

Paul nodded, stepping around another stack of bones.

A ragged breath came from the ground at his feet.

There was a body - a young woman by the look of it - she gasped and reached out with a hand.

“H-help me.”

Paul paused.

“We can’t,” Syth muttered.

“I can’t leave her like this.”

“If you take her with us, we’ll lose Kneelength, and we’ll lose her, too.”

Paul shook his head. “No, we can save them both.”

“Ta’mil gave his life to hold back whatever was following us. Don’t make his sacrifice vain.”

“If we don’t stand by our principles,” Paul hissed quietly, “then the sacrifice is already vain. We help those who need it.”

“You do.”

“Take Kneelength. I’ll get her.”

“This is foolish, she’s already dead.”

A hand clawed at Paul’s leg. “P-please…”

Syth shook his head.

Paul crouched and gingerly lifted her. Kneelength on one shoulder, her in his arms, with a bone spear delicately pointed away from her. If they were attacked right now…

Syth glared at him, then squeezed ahead. “Stay behind me, you old fool.”

The woman groaned.

“Sssshhhh.”

They slipped into the main tunnel and walked in the direction the creatures had gone.

“Stay quiet.”

Kneelength coughed. The woman groaned in pain.

“It’ll all be all right,” Paul whispered, “just stay calm. We’ll get you out of here.”

Something moved ahead.

“Against the wall, now.”

Paul obeyed, trying to keep his charges in as immobile but comfortable a position as possible.

A shuffling creature shambled past, sniffing the air. It paused and turned to them, its blind eyes regarding… something. It sniffed at the woman, then began to reach out with its claws to take her from Paul’s hands. Paul’s grip tightened on the bone, ready to spear it into the creature’s face. But then he thought otherwise.

He began to growl.

The creature paused, staring up at where Paul’s mouth was. Paul bared his teeth and did his best to imitate the monsters’ growls, barking and hissing at the thing standing before him. The creature regarded him for a split second longer before cowering, raising its clawed hands over its head and stumbling back, seemingly apologetic.

It scurried off down the cave, leaving the small group behind in confusion.

“You made an impact, apparently.”

Paul nodded.

“Let’s go.”

The path continued up and around, tracing through the mountainside. And then it widened, and the glow of the outside world met them, nearly blinding.

Paul felt a thrill of hope and began to quicken.

Then something latched onto him.

Paul felt the clawed hand on his leg, felt the world invert. The woman fell from his grip. Kneelength toppled free, and he felt himself being bodily dragged back into the depths.

“Paul!”

“Get them out of here!” He commanded, managing to toss the amulet before vanishing into the darkness.

And then they were gone, and the darkness was all he could see.

He felt himself being lifted up, heard the hissing roar. He attempted to reply, but a sharp claw split his shoulder. Something sharp closed around his arm. Was he being eaten alive?

A chunk of flesh tore free.

He groaned loudly, his muscles smasming involuntarily. The strange gutteral language. The fetid smell of hot breath on his arm. He could hear it chewing on the chunk it had just bitten off him. He clenched a quivering hand.

The bone.

Someone, he’d still managed a grip on the bone.

He transferred the weapon to his good hand and paused.

The creature shuffled around him, moving in the darkness.

Hot breath reached him again.

He waited for the teeth to make contact, then stabbed, getting it hopefully right where the eye would be. If he could get a brain shot, he could escape.

But it sank deep in what felt like the creature’s gut. Arms descended from somewhere above and he felt them latch onto his outstretched arm. He wrenched the bone free and stabbed higher. It struck something hard, well-protected, like armor, and splintered.

But it was enough.

He shoved the creature back, his hands firmly planting on the beast’s chest - above the mouth somehow! It staggered back, and Paul ran - ran through the darkness, letting his time in these caves guide him.

He struck the wall with more force that a normal man could shake off.

But he was no normal man.

Rocks crumbled around him. He rushed headlong into the darkness. His head struck something hard, and he heard a bit of rock tumble from the ceiling. His eye instinctively flinched as dirt and blood fell into it, but he ran.

He ran because it was the only thing he know to do at the moment.

Then he saw light.

The beast had barely dragged him a hundred yards back into the darkness, impatient to begin feasting.

But it wasn’t about to give up its prey without a fight.

Paul rushed toward the exit, listening to the angry scrabbling as the massive creature skittered along behind him, dirt and debris spraying as it barrelled toward him on all fours, blood spraying from a found in its stomach.

Paul sprinted as fast as he could toward the entrance.

Sharp claws raked at his back.

He cried in pain, almost lost his footing, but managed to stay upright.

And then he was free.

Cold air struck him, and he flung himself from the cavern’s mouth and into a snowbank.

The creature burst from the darkness, blind eye rolling, bloodied fur bristled. Long, scythelike claws reached for him.

Then the sun went dark, and the creature hung in midair.

Syth had descended like a thunderstrike, splitting through the creature’s head in a single, stabbing blow.

Red flashed against the white ground.

Then the creature stumbled back, useless head lolling on its bloodied shoulders. As in driven by something else, the twitching body flailed its way back to the cave entrance before flopping dead in the mouth.

Blood oozed from its nearly-severed neck. It lay still.

Paul pulled himself back, holding a mighty hand over his half-eaten arm. Blood welled from between scarred fingers.

Syth raised himself to full height and was about to strike at the beast again when several others appeared, latched onto their apparent leader, and dragged it back into the darkness. Syth deflated, his wings smoothing out and folding against his body.

He turned, his face a masque of concern.

“You fool. I told you it was for nothing!”

“What happened?”

“She’s dead.” He replied. “Her wounds were too great.”

“Kneelength?”

“We got him in time, just barely.”

Paul stumbled upright. The woman lay in a pool of blood. Her legs had been mangled beyond recognition, and one arm had been taken off below the elbow.

“We almost lost them both.”

“I had to try…”

Kneelength lay on a cleared-off patch of ground. The amulet rested against his chest. He was sleeping, but this seemed somewhat… normal… compared to what had happened before.

Paul clamped his fingers around his chewed arm.

“Let me see.” Syth nodded at the wound.

Paul peeled his bloody fingers away and showed the ragged gashes where the creature had attempted to eat him.

“You’re strong. You’ll heal. But I don’t think you’ll get away without several new scars from that one.” Syth ripped a sleeve off his shirt and tied it around Paul’s arm, his long fingers deftly applying the bandage. It immediately stained red. “Fool.”

“We have to bring her back to the village.”

Syth regarded the dead woman. “And draw the villagers up here? What if they run into those creatures? Mankind isn’t ready to face a whole tribe of those things. We barely survived.”

“We’ll say that we found her like this. We don’t have to mention the caves. This will look like a bear attack. If anything, it’ll keep more people from coming up this way.”

“Fine. It’s not like you’ll listen to me anyway.”

Paul reached down to pick up the woman.

“I’ll take Kneelength. Let that arm rest.”

Two Days Later

The mountain rose up behind them, white and splendid. Syth pulled his new coat tight around himself, his form barely fitting underneath his “human costume.” 

Paul’s arm hung in a sling, healing but still traced with pink scars, the flesh raw and irritated.

He’d been thoroughly questioned by the townsfolk, and had managed to deflect all attention away from the sleeping old man. Syth, as usual, avoided detection to all but those who knew to look for him - which was absolutely no one in Shasta.

Paul watched the sun set over the distant mountain.

“It’s about to get very cold…” he commented.

Syth nodded from inside his jacket - warmth more the reason for his camouflage than hiding. After all, when you’re invisible, it doesn’t matter what you wear.

“Kneelength.”

The man stirred from his slumber.

“We have to get going.”

The man had been fitfully sleeping for the last day, and had come to just a few minutes earlier with a groan and a confused look at the scenery.

“This ain’t New York.”

“No. We’re in California.”

“How’d I get to California?”

Paul exchanged confused glances with Syth. “We came here looking for answers. You got sick, so we had to bring you out.”

“Sick? I’ve never felt better!”

“Kneelength? Are you all right?”

“Kneelength? Who’s Kneelength?”

“That’s what you said you were called in the Fairy Realm.” Paul replied.

“Heh, son, I think you’ve been drinkin’ too much of those Dutchman’s Hops. Fairy Realm… sure!”

Paul felt his spine run cold, and it had nothing to do with the weather. “What year is it?”

“Heh, year of our lord 1770, of course!”

“And… what’s your name.”

“I come from the hearty stock of the van Winkles. You can call me Rip.”