Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

Six columns of shimmering air surrounded the stone box. Gobblesnot stared, frozen in wonder. It was as if something was trapped inside each one, something humanoid in form. The features of the shape just to his left began to sharpen, drawing his eye. When he looked directly at the coalescing image, it distorted, slipping out of focus. At the same time, the columns at the edges of his vision began to resolve into shapes.

Gobblesnot blinked as his eyes began to water. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, this time concentrating on his peripheral vision as he did so. Tantalizing snatches of faces of men, ogres, and hobgoblins surfaced within the whirling vortices that surrounded the casket, and he could just barely make out their immaterial arms snaking under the edges of the great stone box.

He caught a glimpse of one face set in an impassive stare directed straight at him. Half of the face, which faded away even as he turned to regard it, was ruined. The bones peeked from below a broken cheek and the eye was a pulpy mass above it, but no blood seeped from the horrible wound. As Gobblesnot’s eyes centered on the wraith, the face faded back into obscurity, but he could still feel the single eye upon him, looking with hungry anticipation.

He stumbled back to allow more room for the group as the first apparition passed close to him. Cold flowed from the formless shape and robbed his fingers of their warmth. The next figure to pass took the heat from his arms and chest. He shivered, and from more than just the cold.

The temperature continued to drop until he began to see his breath take form before him. Tendrils of frozen air poured from the casket’s bearers. The cold, smoky vapor crossed the floor and began to fill the room, clawing its way up the goblin’s bare legs like a monster from some icy pit.

Just when Gobblesnot thought he must beg for mercy and rescue from these terrible apparitions, Baeloke made a gesture with his hand and spoke a word that held no meaning for Gobblsnot. The casket settled to the ground and the shimmering apparitions twisted in upon themselves, folding into smaller and smaller shapes before vanishing from sight.

The intense cold began to retreat immediately and the goblin’s heart leapt. His new friend had such power, he could command the very dead. Today was surely a day to remember.

His mistress had gone rigid the moment the tent flap lifted. Her eyes had locked onto the heavy stone casket, and she followed it to the soft floor, where it now rested under her rapt gaze.

Baeloke looked at Selen. “You feel it, don’t you?”

His mistress’s voice shook with an eagerness the goblin had never heard. “I spoke in jest of our kin, but it appears you have produced the very thing I require.”

Baeloke stood and rested his hands on the smooth lid. “This box acts as a bulwark. It is fortified against our senses as well as physical attack.”

Selen ignored Baeloke’s last statement. “Have you opened it?”

“No.”

“Can you?”

He waited until Selen tore her eyes from the casket to look into his before he responded. “Yes.”

Selen was on her feet in an instant, leaning over the sarcophagus toward Baeloke. “Then do it!”

The tone of command in his mistress’s voice was unmistakable, and Gobblesnot wondered at his new friend for his ability to shrug it off while staring coldly back.

Once again, a crackling energy filled the room as the two unearthly beings faced each other. Neither moved in the slightest, but the goblin felt the surge of power between them. It was as if the forms he could see were but figureheads for some other essence that couldn’t possibly be contained within the living beings. The goblin cringed as his skin began to prickle once more, and he smelled a putrid stench as the hair on his arms started to smolder. Gobblesnot invoked a fervent, silent prayer to Mot, the god of death and chaos.

The smile on Baeloke’s face had changed to a thin, straight line. “There are things we must speak of first.”

The two stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. His mistress snarled abruptly and waved her hand, dispelling the mounting tension. “Fine! Babble on.”

Gobblesnot’s chest eased, and breath returned to him. He settled back against the golden trunk to watch in awed silence.

“I believe the Awakening has been postponed. Purposely.” Baeloke motioned to the casket with both hands. “This is my evidence.”

The mistress sat back down on her lavish settee, a look of abject disbelief on her face. “Impossible,” she said, then paused, considering. “Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then who do you claim is responsible?”

“Again, I do not know.”

Selen narrowed her eyes, apparently disgusted. “Do you know
anything
?”

Baeloke’s expression did not change. “More than you think.”

The mistress’s eye twitched. “Well, let’s start with something a little more simple. Where did you find this casket?”

“To the North, in Basinia, near Asynia’s border.”

“Then perhaps it is Yorin. That is part of his domain.”

Baeloke leaned against the sarcophagus. “For what purpose would he do such a thing? Yorin seeks the Boon as we do. No Awakening, no Boon. For any of us.”

“Who’s to say what motivates the mind of a madman?” Selen cast one hand into the air. “I say Yorin is responsible and should die accordingly.”

Baeloke barked a laugh. “I know of your movements toward the North. Yorin’s death will not give you what you seek. What we seek. To hunt him is folly.”

“I grow tired of waiting!” Selen was suddenly back on her feet, facing Gobblesnot’s friend over the lid of the casket. She had moved so quickly, Gobblesnot had completely missed the action. “Century after century passes, and still
nothing
. I will have what’s owed to me!” She shook her fist at Baeloke as if she blamed him for the time passed.

“Yes, you will.” Baeloke patted the casket. “But why not go after easier prey?”

“How are you so certain Yorin isn’t responsible?”

“Initially, I did suspect our brethren, but I have searched their lands thoroughly. I have found nothing. Something else is out there,
and
it has the power to evade our senses… Well, it
has
had the power to evade us, until now.”

“What do you mean ‘something else’?” Selen spat. “What could possibly hide from us?”

“I don’t know how, but the one responsible for this,” Baeloke said, looking down at the elegantly carved slab of stone, “has great power, similar to our own.”

“Nonsense. Nothing could stay hidden, or survive, for that long. One of us is responsible, it’s just a matter of finding out who.”

Baeloke shook his head. “I would agree with you if just the five of us remained, but this”—he gestured to the coffin—“proves otherwise.”

“Proves
what
otherwise?” Selen bared her teeth in a snarl.

Baeloke looked at Gobblesnot’s seething mistress with a blank expression. “Have you not considered how the Awakening might have been delayed?”

“Always questions from you!” Selen’s anger writhed across her lips. “You live to try my patience, and I have none. Get to the point!”

The small smile returned to Baeloke’s face. “The answer is quite simple, really. Too many of us still live.”

The anger slowly bled away from Selen’s face and she looked down at the casket. “Who is in there?”

Baeloke raised his brows. “Not one of us, but a brother nonetheless.”

“How do you know if you haven’t even looked inside?”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Prove it,” Selen commanded. “Show me!”

Baeloke slowly sat back down in his chair, steepling his long fingers in front of his face. “I need your help with something first.”

Selen frowned. “What do you propose?”

Baeloke leaned forward. “I believe there are more of these.” His hand gestured, again, to the casket. “But I cannot get to them. None of us can. More conventional means are required. An army. Your army.”

Selen gave her guest a furious scowl. “So you need the resources I have cultivated for centuries while you sat on your backside like a lazy mule—”

“Do not belittle the information I have gathered over the same centuries you speak of,” Baeloke interjected. “This knowledge will change everything. It
has
changed everything. Even someone as self-absorbed as you should see that.”

Amusement suddenly made its way into Selen’s voice, “I have yet to
see
anything.”

The goblin cringed in anticipation of the return of the burning sensation as the two demigods eyed each other, but instead, Baeloke rose to his feet and looked down at the sarcophagus. He began to speak words that were not only meaningless to Gobblesnot, but words that also twisted in his mind, refusing to be remembered. The runes on the lid of the casket started to glow an eerie green. All along the sides of the coffin, the stone carvings of the dead came to life and began to claw at one another in an attempt to reach the globes that now glowed with the same green light.

Low and powerful, the words bathed Gobblesnot’s mind in writhing pain, and he screamed. How long the chanting lasted, he could not say. When his friend’s powerful voice subsided, Gobblesnot found himself on hands and knees, shaking. Taking sharp breaths, he wiped the drool from his mouth and dared to look at the casket and his masters.

The faces of the stone box no longer had skeletons adorning them. Only the orbs, once again cool, lifeless stone, remained. Selen and Baeloke stood on either side, facing each other, as smoke drifted around them.

“Those words you spoke… I have never heard their like before. What dialect was it?” Selen asked.

“A dead language, lost before our time,” Baeloke replied dismissively. “Shall we open it?”

Grabbing the sides of the heavy stone lid, the two slid it easily to the foot of the casket, letting it drop to the ground with a thud. The same terrible green glow that had emanated from the runes and orbs now radiated from within the lidless tomb as the two peered inside.

“Amazing.” Selen’s eyes were wide as she reached into the opened casket.

Curiosity drove Gobblesnot to his feet and he tottered closer to catch a glimpse of the object of her attention.

The green glow from within the casket faded from view as she stood, to the accompaniment of a wet, sucking sound, followed by a soft pop.

An abomination was cradled lovingly in her arms. Slick with some gelatinous fluid, the form possessed similar characteristics as the two beings who regarded it. Pale, almost transparent skin, long, delicate limbs, and a mouth filled with sharp teeth. Where the two masters were hale and strong, this thing was desiccated beyond description. The belly was sunken into the body cavity, where the shapes of organs could be seen pressing into the pallid flesh. Bones stood out starkly from the sunken flesh, and once blonde hair fell in wet, stringy clumps from the skull. As Gobblesnot watched in lurid fascination, a single finger twitched. How anything could be emaciated to this level and have any life was beyond the goblin’s grasp. A putrid odor, far worse than that of the swamp, contaminated the air at the creature’s release and finally overwhelmed the goblin’s nostrils.

Gobblesnot reeled from the smell, and he retched up the remains of his afternoon rat on the lifeless form of the girl he had slain.

“It is indeed amazing,” Baeloke echoed, “and my gift to you, if you choose to assist me.”

Selen looked up from the gaunt, comatose form in her arms. The hunger in her eyes was impossible to overlook. “What is it you require of me?”

“Nothing you won’t enjoy. Your forces are already headed in the right direction. Our goal would require only a slight adjustment to their final destination.”

Impatience crept into Selen’s voice. “Who am I to attack on your behalf?”

The cold, pale features of Gobblesnot’s friend stretched in an evil grin. “You must lay siege to Stone Mountain and breach its walls.”

Haunting laughter came from the depths of Selen’s chest. “Those walls are impenetrable. What you ask for cannot be done. You would do better to sneak in yourself.”

“Oh, I’ve tried. Apparently the magics that make those walls ‘impenetrable’ also prevent creatures like you and I—and any of the others, for that matter—from entering.”

“And your failure makes what you ask of me
more
palatable?!” Selen barked another laugh with no trace of the haunting lilt from moments before.

“I’m sure you have many other means at your disposal to help your army with such a task. Besides, think of the gain.” Baeloke looked toward the slime-covered thing in Selen’s arms. “And to trigger the Awakening after so long. Isn’t that worth the risk?”

Selen gazed at the atrocity she held in her arms. “Yes, it is.”

“Then accept my gift, and together we will find the rest of these hidden treasures, so that we may step into our rightful roles—as gods!”

Selen screeched and threw her head back. Popping and snapping of bone resonated through the tent as her jaw distorted into a gaping maw far too large for her formerly petite, feminine features. Already pointed teeth grew in size and number, giving her the likeness of a wicked sea serpent from the deep waters of the Hook. With her transformation complete, the mistress snarled and bit into the neck of the helpless creature trapped in her embrace. She ripped its flesh and gurgled down its blood in a frenzy.