Darkness Raging Page 26

  And then, as the psychic river of a power so ancient and so corrupt flowed freely around me, I opened my eyes to find myself standing in a valley of rock formations—crumbling and roughly weathered, and striated with reddish streaks. The sky was illuminated by a pale light, but it was neither the moon nor the sun. Roiling clouds, rust colored and dusty, filled the air, churning through the sky.

  As the others appeared through the Demon Gate to join me, I gazed out over the landscape, realizing that we were actually here. We were in the Sub-Realms.

  Chapter 17

  As soon as we were all there, I tried to shake the cobwebs out of my head. “Wilbur was right, that hurt like a son of a bitch.”

  Shade nodded. “Yeah, Demon Gates aren’t noted for their pleasure trips. They’re created to handle creatures of immense power and stamina. What hurt you would tickle them. It didn’t bother me because of my dragon heritage, and I’m guessing Vanzir was fine, but I’ll bet Trillian and the other vamps weren’t too happy.”

  Trillian rubbed his head. “You can say that again.”

  Vanzir was glancing around. “Shut up until we know if we were spotted.” He motioned for us to hide behind the nearest outcropping of rocks and I immediately obeyed, motioning for Roman’s vamps to follow me. Trillian and Vanzir began to scout around, and I realized they fit here—Vanzir more than Trillian—but they had gone into a mode that felt perfectly suited for this place. Cautious and edgy, on high alert.

  As we waited, I began to feel like we were being watched. Nervously, I glanced over my shoulder, up to the high rock shelf above us. The clouds and the illumination made everything appear in silhouette—dim and hard to see the details, but I had the feeling there was something moving around up there. I crouched down and began to work my way toward Vanzir. Before I could go farther than a few feet, however, there was a noise as figures leaped down, falling a good twenty feet to land at our backs.

  Immediately, I was on my feet, battle-ax raised. Vanzir and Trillian had turned and Shade and the vamps had weapons poised. But a guttural laugh stopped us, as Trytian slid out from the shadows with a group of four daemons behind him.

  Trytian was dressed in camo—red and rust and brown and black, which worked like a charm. He looked terribly harsh here, in his native element, and his buddies, while they could pass for human, obviously weren’t. There was an edge to them that whispered Do Not Fuck With.

  “You’re lucky it was us.” Trytian glanced over at the Demon Gate. “You found somebody who knows what he’s doing, though. I’ll give you that. That gate won’t be easy to take down, if anybody manages to find it.”

  Vanzir crossed to him and the two, arms raised, clasped hands in the air as if they were about to arm-wrestle. After a solid shake, they let go.

  “Were you able to find out anything else?” Vanzir asked.

  Trytian gave us a brief nod, his gaze focusing on me. “I found out where they’re keeping the werepuma. There’s a detention center about seven miles from here by foot. She’s there. I would have given you coordinates that were closer, but once you get a few miles in, the place is swarming with Shadow Wing’s soldiers. It’s not a full encampment, but there’s enough coming and going that I think they might have a good chance of noticing the Demon Gate. We’ll go in via a roundabout way. I know a back path that leads up to the detention center. There will still be a few guards, but I have a feeling we’re going to face far fewer that way.”

  A wave of relief washed over me. “You’re going with us?”

  “Hell yes. Anything to muck up Shadow Wing’s plans. My father knows nothing about this little operation, but he put me in charge of causing as much mayhem as possible to trip up the enemy.”

  I laughed then, softly so my voice wouldn’t carry. “The Great Escape.”

  “What?” The daemon looked clueless.

  “Movie. Steve McQueen starred in it. One of the characters—Bartlett—said, ‘What my personal feelings are is of no importance. You appointed me Big X. And it’s my duty to harass, confound, and confuse the enemy to the best of my ability.’ It reminds me of that.”

  A spark flickered in Trytian’s eyes. “Exactly. You understand. Rescuing your wife will do just that. So I’m taking on the job.”

  “Then you lead.” I found a sudden faith in the daemon. He hated Shadow Wing, and so did we. Common enemy, common goals.

  Trytian arranged us so that he and one of his party—Lokail—were at the front. After them, came Vanzir and me, then Shade and Trillian, then Roman’s vamps. After that were the other three daemons. Which made our party fourteen strong. We were all dressed in clothing that was essentially camouflage. Vanzir had a red baseball hat on, which covered the shock of blond hair. Trillian had braided his hair and he, too, now slipped on a black bandanna, tying it below the braid, to hide the shining silvery-blue highlights. Shade reached down, caught up a handful of the red sandy soil beneath our feet, and streaked it through his amber hair. My own hair was camo enough, and the daemons had dark or reddish-dark hair. None of Roman’s vamps were light-haired, so we were good to go.

  We started out, Trytian cautiously leading us through the maze of rocks that jutted upward from the floor of the Sub-Realms. A surreal desert, it made me think of the deep Southern Wastes of Otherworld, where rogue magic mingled into the dust clouds, wandering the vast dunes. The hoodoos towered into the air, harsh, jutting fingers of rock spreading out like a forest of stone trees. Rough and running brown to deep rust, their tops jaggedly slashed the sky above us.

  Two rows behind me, Ron whispered, “This reminds me of Bryce Canyon in the Moab desert. You can get lost in there and never find your way out.”

  I glanced around, wondering if the Sub-Realms looked this way all the way through. Finally, I tapped Vanzir on the shoulder. “Is every place here like this?” My voice, even though I kept it low, felt like it echoed around me, ricocheting from rock to rock.

  “No, there are oceans and lakes, but they are more tropical. There are mountains, also . . . snow demons come from there. The seasons do change, but it’s not quite like Earthside or Otherworld. It’s an environment all its own.” Vanzir looked preoccupied. “We are far from any cities, at least I know that.”

  I frowned. “Cities? I know there are cities here, but . . .”

  “I was born in Quantell, a city on the edge of a vast desert. Not a desert like this, but rolling dunes that go on and on without end. I remember very little of it, though, because shortly after I was born, my mother sold me to a trader, who took me with him to a fortress in the mountains. There, he trained me to use my powers as a weapon, and then he traded me to a demon general. I don’t know what he got in return, but from then on, I was both a weapon and a sex slave. Karvanak won me in a poker game.”

  A look passed through those kaleidoscope eyes, the ones we could never settle on a color for, and his voice was gruff and harsh. I could sense the memories behind the words—just as my own voice sounded when I talked about Dredge.

  “I understand. You know I do. At least, to some extent.” I had been tortured and abused for a night before being turned. Vanzir had spent a good share of his life as a slave.

  “You more than most. And Camille, as well.” And that part of the subject was closed. After another pause, he said, “Shadow Wing was born and came to power in Vaikish. It’s a vast city—spread throughout the dunes like a mystical Ceredream that rises out of the sand. Efreet live there, and Salamanders, and other fire spirits. And Soul Eaters, like Shadow Wing, congregate there. He climbed on the backs of others, assassinating his way to claim the throne. At least in this area.”

  “I don’t fully understand, I think. Nor my sisters. So Shadow Wing is not the Demon Lord of all of the Sub-Realms?” We had never fully managed to come to grips with how the hierarchies worked here. There wasn’t much written on the subject, and those who knew best—the Demonkin—didn’t go pa
rading the knowledge around.

  “There are other lords, in other lands. The Sub-Realms are as vast as Otherworld, perhaps even more so. There are levels to the realms, worlds within worlds. Some are far less fearsome, others total pandemonium. Some would drive you mad if you even set foot in them. Their energy there is not meant for the likes of mortals, even if they are vampire or Fae.” Vanzir shrugged. “I might manage it, but I wouldn’t want to try.”

  Trytian turned around. “Shush, you two. We need to move in silence.” Then, “What he says is correct. Never go waltzing around unescorted down here. If you go through the wrong door, you will be lost forever.”

  As we moved onward, the landscape became a labyrinth of twists and turns through the rocky terrain. I began to realize that I would easily be lost if it weren’t for Trytian guiding us—there were no landmarks that I could see, no identifying markers or structures. The light overhead held steady, never growing, never darkening, and I wondered if there was any change to the endless half light.

  “Does it ever get dark?” I finally asked, when the sea of reds and rusts started to blur into a haze of murk.

  Vanzir shook his head. “No, never. And never brighter than this. At least not in this layer of the Sub-Realms. In some places, it’s black as pitch, blacker than any darkness you’ve ever encountered. Darker than the grave, in fact. Any light is absorbed. Ancient monsters sleep coiled in that realm, and they shift and stir, causing great quakes with their turning. Once in a long while, one wakes and blazes out into the other realms, taking with it death and destruction and anguish.”

  I shuddered, thinking of the wyrm we had recently fought. These creatures sounded worse than the ancestors of dragons, and they were terrifying enough. “They sound primordial.”

  “They are, and in their rage, they know no boundaries.”

  Trytian glanced back. “We’re coming to the end of this part of Stone Rock Fields.”

  “Is that what you call this area?”

  “Yes, but be wary. When we emerge, we’ll be facing a far greater danger, and you must be very cautious when crossing the river.”

  I was about to say that I didn’t drown all that easily when Trytian led us out of the maze of hoodoos. Even from this distance, the heat was tangible from the rush of lava racing through a very large channel. An overpass arched over the riverbed, rising at least fifty feet away from the surface, and it started a good twenty feet back from the edge of the river of molten rock. But the arch was old and looked like the rock had crumbled away in places, and the thought of crossing over the lake of burning fire scared the hell out of me. I could tell Trillian and Vanzir weren’t all that thrilled either. Even Shade looked askance.

  “I’d fly over, but that would likely attract attention,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah, but if you do, I’m going on your back.” I flashed him a faint grin. I thought about turning into a bat, but I really didn’t want to be in a form that was more vulnerable while we were here—not if I could help it. “Seriously, is that overpass safe? I seem to see pebbles and rocks falling into the lava.”

  Trytian shrugged. “What’s safe and what isn’t? Safety is an illusion, anyway. But to calm your fears, yes, it should hold us up as we pass—it’s been there for thousands of years. And whether or not it does, the fact remains it’s the only way across unless, as your friend says, he turns into a dragon and flies. But that will surely attract some unwelcome attention and I highly recommend you think twice about it.”

  The sound of the coiling strands of flowing rock hissed and popped, sending cinders up onto the edge of the bank. I shivered, again thinking of how far we were from home, and how much I’d hate to be stuck down here.

  “Then let’s get over it and get done. The more we stand here, the more I really don’t want to go.” I moved forward, but Trytian stopped me.

  “Let me go first. And when you go, don’t run, be cautious with your footing, but keep a quick pace. That will prevent you from being burned. If somebody attacks while we’re up there, I don’t care what you want to do. You get to the other side before you return the attack. Fighting up on top of the arch is suicide.”

  “What’s the river called?” I followed as he neared the start of the overpass, trying to keep my mind from thinking about just what we were about to do.

  “We call it Xilan Ki, but the closest translation would be Fiery Mother’s Milk.” Trytian was setting a good pace and I followed, watching where he put his feet. Several places along the overpass had been broken through, so that there were a scant few inches of stone on either side, which left a gaping hole in the center of the overpass. The lava boiled below us, hissing on its frantic journey through the heavily fortified channel, where years of buildup had produced a smooth half pipe of hardened obsidian stone.

  As I watched, Trytian edged along the left side, testing each step, clinging to the stone rail that rose up to keep us from falling over the edge. I followed suit.

  “Do you have any rivers here that have actual water in them?” I shuddered as a few rocks the size of my fist broke away and fell into the seething river below.

  “Yes, we do. Some of them are quite beautiful, too. There is beauty in all places, even this gods-forsaken wasteland.” He was edging over another dicey area, but once we were beyond that, it was relatively easy going to the other side of the bank.

  When we were all on solid ground again, well away from the heat of the flowing lava, I leaned back against a nearby boulder and tried to regroup. I was eminently grateful I had refused Camille and Delilah’s offer to come with me. They were tough, but this was really rough going.

  “Where to from here?” I glanced around. Now that we were over the river, all I could see in either direction was barren, red dunes. The rust of the jagged outcroppings had weathered away here, I thought, leaving only worn sand behind.

  Trytian shaded his eyes, gazing around at the plains. “We cross the Plain of Winds, and then we will go through a petrified forest, and after that, we come to the detention camp where they are holding your wife. The plains only go on for a couple of miles, but they will not be easy. The gusts are constant and stiff—between that and the shifting sand, it takes time to pass through. Watch your footing; there are creatures that hide in burrows waiting for people to pass by, much like trapdoor spiders. They will eat anything that moves. And there are dunes that are very much like quicksand, easy to sink down into and not so easy to pull yourself out from. Follow in each other’s footsteps, stay in your lines, and try to keep up.”

  He started off. I wanted to ask when the winds would pick up, but it was like stepping from night to day. The moment we started out onto the rolling hills of sand, the winds swept in, shrieking past with a fury that was reserved for the strongest windstorms back Earthside. I estimated the gusts to be running close to fifty or sixty miles an hour, enough to knock a person off their feet if they weren’t prepared for it. Combined with the blowing sand and the difficulty of gaining even footing, our progress slowed tremendously.

  One foot in front of the other. That was what I focused on. Keeping in Trytian’s path, following him as we trudged along. It was useless to speak here—a waste of breath for those who actually breathed, and a waste of energy for those of us who didn’t. The sand was blowing in my face and eyes, and the granules stung as they blasted past me.

  A glance told me Trillian and Vanzir had thought along the same lines. They brought out eye protection—goggles, of all things. I found myself a little irritated they hadn’t thought to warn Shade and me about it, so we could have picked up a couple of pair, but then Trillian reached forward to hand a pair to me, and he gave one to Shade. Gratefully, I slid them over my face, finding an instant relief from fighting to see through the constant barrage of sand.

  As we pushed our way through the dunes, I began to slide further and further into my thoughts. Talking was useless, and it took every ounc
e of energy to keep upright against the howling winds that seemed to grow stronger with each step. The plains might only be a few miles wide, but those miles seemed to take forever as we trudged along.

  As we continued, a wall of sand rose beside us, sloping up to form a tall hill directly to our left. It made me nervous—what if the winds shifted and it came cascading down on us? But we were nearly to the other side. In the distance I could barely see jutting shapes of something I assumed were the petrified trees, and I just held hope that we’d make it out before being covered by the cascading drifts.

  A scream cut through the wind. I turned, forcing my body to shift against the steady gale, and saw that the vampires I had brought with me had moved out of formation. Ron had vanished, and to the side of where he had been standing, there was a gaping hole in the wall of sand.

  “Ron!” I tried to struggle back to him as the soles of his boots slowly vanished inside the sudden tunnel.

  Jacob and Sandra were closest to him, and they pushed forward, trying to get to him, but the sand closed over the hole and it was as if he had never been there. I turned, frantic, to Trytian, but he shook his head and resolutely turned forward, beginning to move again. Torn between wanting to help Ron, to find him, and realizing that we were going to have to leave him behind, I bit my lip till it was bloody but returned to the trail and tried not to think about what it was that had reached out to drag him into its lair.

  Another half hour and we stumbled out of the plains. The wind died to a slow whoosh, as the dunes once again faded into hard rock beneath our feet. We were staring at the petrified forest that sprawled in front of us. The trees had once been real trees—that much I could tell—but now their trunks had hardened to stone, and they were surreal sculptures rising from this barren land.