15. Shits, Giggles, and a Fuck Load of Sand
Chapter 15
Shits, Giggles, and a Fuck Load of Sand
Jared
“ L ook, not that I’m against any opportunity to wrap my hands around that fucker’s neck, but won’t we just be walking into a trap by entering his realm like this?” I asked as we made our way back into the temple, shortly after Marcus had announced who it was that we had to speak to. And well, I didn’t exactly foresee much speaking, as I didn’t know whether I would be able to keep from outright killing the guy. Especially after learning his part in all of this.
It turned out that he was known as someone who worked for Garmr but under what capacity, we still didn’t know. In fact, there was a fuck load we didn’t know, something that gnarled at me, as I didn’t believe in coincidences.
“We could always try stealth and acting discreet,” Marcus offered, making Orth and I look at each other.
“Not really our style.”
“Not really our style,” we both said at the same time, making Marcus shrug his shoulders and comment dryly,
“Tactless brute strength and head on diplomacy it is then.”
My brother and I smirked at each other before I reminded him,
“Not really known for our subtlety, Marc, and speaking of which, neither are you.” This time it was his turn to grin, and it was a damn sight creepier than ours, as it most definitely promised a world of hurt.
“Well, if that’s the case, let’s knock, should we?” he said, now stopping at a door that looked as if it had been made from sunbaked dead trees. Twisted bare branches were entwined together tight enough to form a door of pale bleached wood. And above this misshapen entrance, was a carved keystone showing the symbol of a serpent with a wolf’s head that also held elements of a dragon.
But before I could ask what it meant, Marcus stood back enough so as to bring forth his staff, the sparks of blue flame crackling around its length. I was unsure how many he had or where he even summoned them from, but this one I knew was a particular favorite of his. A staff that was carved from dark red wood, polished to a high sheen with its twisted vines coiled up to the demonic skull at the top. A pair of silver horns made for the perfect handle whilst its open mouth held a crystal ball in place between its fangs. One that was currently swirling with the same blue power that was about to be unleashed.
He then used the end of this of his staff to knock on the door, making the whole thing crack the second his power branched out along the grains of wood. It quickly started to split before cracking completely. Meaning all it needed was for a single good kick by one of my shit kicker biker boots and the whole thing caved in.
“Very subtle,” my brother commented with a smirk.
“I know, right?” I agreed, slapping him on the back before walking through the gap, with no idea what was waiting for us having never been to this realm before.
“Well, I knew that was too easy,” my brother commented once we were all inside what now looked to be a very dark and ominous temple. Oh, and as for that easy as fuck door, well it was a bit pointless when faced with another one that looked like it belonged on some long-forgotten fortress. It looked as if it hadn’t been used in an age. The roundish stone door was misshapen enough to make me wonder if someone hadn’t just taken a giant’s hammer to a boulder and used a slice of it.
It was about the size of a small house set into a massive stone wall the height of a four-story building. Above the round door was a tall rectangle tablet of sorts, that looked etched with carved words in another language. One I didn’t think I recognized. This ancient script also reached the full height of the wall we were now face with, in words so black it was hard to make them out.
This was thanks to the black rock they had been carved into. The stone looked to have been carved into blocks and used to create the massive wall that went in both directions as far as the eye could see. The uneven surface was thanks to the construction as these giant black bricks had been placed in a haphazard way, creating a strange rippling effect in the shadows.
“I think it’s time to be subtle again,” I suggested, nodding to the door and stepping back to allow Marcus to once again do his thing. Something he was eager to do as he spun his staff, lighting it up as if charging it with even more power before hammering the top into the center of the round stone door.
However, this time it didn’t exactly go his way, as the door fought back. It started at the top of the stone tablet as the words began to glow with a golden light. Each line ignited as power flowed downwards towards the door below. Then once it reached the arch of stone blocks that surrounded the door, a sudden burst of energy came from the edge, traveling to the center where it quickly hit out at Marcus. This all happened in seconds, and he was quickly thrown back, his body smashing into what was left of the wooden door and back into the temple, landing on his arse. This also left Orthrus and I either side of the path he’d just traveled, now looking back at him in surprise.
Of course, this was before we both burst out laughing, unable to contain ourselves as it was the first time in a long time either of us had seen Marcus knocked on his arse.
“Yeah, yeah, fucking hilarious, dickheads,” he grumbled as he got himself off the ground, his long red leather jacket getting caught between his legs. Something that only amused us further as watching his cool demeaner slip was a rare sight indeed.
Especially when he tossed his jacket back in frustration and straightened his black and red pinstripe waistcoat that matched his trousers. Then he rolled his shoulders, stormed back to the door, and held up a finger to us as he passed, telling us both,
“Not a fucking word!” However, the second he kicked up his fallen staff and try this shit again, I placed a hand to his chest and told him,
“Perhaps you put that big brain of yours to better use and try reading the words.” Then with my hand on his staff, I lifted it enough so as the handle pushed his chin up to the golden letters that were already starting to fade. As for Orth, he scuffed me on the head and chastised silently,
“Why would you?”
I just rolled my eyes and nodded back to the door, telling him without words or mouthing them like he had, that we didn’t have the luxury of time. And that meant also not wasting it by watching Marcus getting knocked on his arse ten times in a row… despite how amusing that would have been.
“Spoilsport,” Orth muttered, something I ignored in favor of asking Marcus,
“Can you read it?”
He squinted his eyes and tipped his head slightly to the side before telling me,
“Yeah, it’s Dacian, mixed with Thracian.”
“English, pencil dick,” Orth piped up, making him roll his eyes.
“Well, that’s the fucking point, genius, if I speak English it won’t let us the fuck in,” Marcus replied sarcastically, making me sigh before telling him,
“Just do it.”
“Fine, but just so you know, my Dacian is a little rusty seeing as it’s been a dead language for about, oh I don’t know… three thousand fucking years!” Marcus complained, making my brother and I shoot each other a look that said, this could potentially go badly.
“Just don’t let us end up in Disneyland,” Orth muttered, making me shoot him another look straight after this comment that said, ‘not fucking helpful’.
“Shame, because I had the perfect ride in mind for you,” Marcus retorted, and before I could tell my brother not to bite, he did just that by asking,
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
“It’s a small world,” Marcus replied, looking down at my brother’s crotch. I shook my head and rubbed my brow like this actually helped me in dealing with these two. Side note… It didn’t.
“Ha, ha, pencil dick, I’m bustin’ my gut here,” Orth countered, prompting Marcus to say,
“Not surprising… I’ve seen you eat… fatty.”
The second I heard him mutter this part I decided now was the time to step in.
“What you call me?!”
I placed a hand to my brother’s chest to stop him from hitting Marcus because, well, it wouldn’t have been the first time these two had come to blows over the years. Of course, I usually got them to back down before it came to that. Hence why my brother backed away. But not before he rubbed a self-conscious hand across his belly, one that we both knew was rippling with abs hard enough that he could have been used to scrub clothes clean.
Yet despite this, I couldn’t help but smirk, suppressing a laugh at the look of relief on my brother’s face when feeling this, as if his worst nightmare would be to wake one day and find himself out of shape.
“Stop poking the bear, Marc, and hurry this shit up!” I chastised, wondering just how many times I had come between these two as it was like being a fucking parent!
Now why did that thought once again cruelly throw me to a place I knew would most likely never happen? A place where a bare footed Ella was shuffling around my cabin with her big pregnant belly barely concealed in some tight tee. Great, now I was getting a fucking hard on just thinking about it!
Thankfully, Marcus was stepping closer to the door and my brother was distracted by flexing his own muscles rather than noticing the way I tried to readjust myself. Doing so before my zipper could make a painful impression on my cock. Damn though, just the thought of my Ella pregnant and carrying around my child inside her was like ingesting some heavenly dream pill. A wish, a fantasy, a gods be damned prayer I never wanted to stop yearning for, speaking it from my heart like a fucking mantra.
It was a dream I would never stop hoping for but first, I needed to get my girl back to where she belonged… sitting in my fucking lap or tied to our fucking bed! By my side with a wedding band around her finger that matched my own.
In fact, I think a new tattoo was in my future. I already had a scar over the rose on my forearm… a scar I had purposely kept that way. It was from my own bite as I tore into my arm so as to save the woman I had been too afraid to love. The only reminder I ever needed of how close I had come to losing her before I even had the chance to claim her. One love lost and one love gained. Because despite what Ella had been forced to tell me about my wife, about the betrayal, it hadn’t made what I had once felt for her any less real.
No, it had just shadowed it with bitterness.
It stung far less now that I knew what true love really was. Which was why that scar running through the painted rose on my skin that had once represented my wife, now meant so much more to me. It was symbolic, just like having Ella’s name forever painted against my skin would be. Her name would be etched across my heart, for she was the eternal keeper of it.
“Hey, you still with us?” My brother’s voice brought me out of my wishful thoughts, making me rub my forearm as if the scar now burned without her here by my side.
“Let’s just get this shit done,” I snapped, walking closer to Marcus who looked to be still reading the lines of ancient script in his mind. No doubt familiarizing himself with the old dead language and not wanting to fuck this up.
It was still hard to believe he was a fuck load older than what he always had made himself out to be. It was insane to think about all the things he could have seen in his endless lifetime. All the world changing events, the wars and battles, the rise and fall of countless civilizations. Just how many wonders of the ancient world had he witnessed from start to finish? Monuments, colossal statues, pyramids, temples, cathedrals, castles, and every other structural feat achieved by the hands of man.
It was mind blowing.
“Okay, so here goes… Shapur este balas ?i alm. Lui aksi zalmo ca akmon de noastre ara. Ea alm zuras ?i diegis ?i baidas toate ?n calea lui. Noastre Domn Rigl?, Noastre Zeilor, Nefartatul, detine asta dina ?i toti cei care rebo asupra lui,” Marcus said in what I could only assume was in perfect Dacian, as it certainly sounded like it flowed to me. And well, it must have worked as the sound of stone grinding against stone could soon be heard and the circle door started to move backward. Then once it was past the block frame, it rolled to one side and allowed us access through.
“What was all that anyway?” Orthrus asked as we all walked toward the entrance.
“Translated, it means… Our Son of the king is strong and powerful, his black shield like the rock of our rivers. It flows hot and burning and frightens all in its path. Our Lord ruler, our God, Nefartatul, owns this land and all who walk upon it. Oh and perhaps a small warning underneath,” he added after we made it through.
Behind us, the door rolled back into place, sealing us and our fate inside this unknown realm.
“Oh great… just great, and you didn’t think to mention that before we stepped inside?” my brother grumbled.
Marcus simply shrugged his shoulders, as if this meant nothing. Which was when I started to take in our surroundings, seeing now the vast red desert and surrounding black mountains. The hellish view made for a startling contrast in color. But then I looked down, discovering the obvious footprints I had left there, and purposely toed my foot to the side to see the way the red sand gave way to black underneath.
“So, where the Hell are we anyway? Emphasis on the Hell part,” Orth asked.
Marcus made his staff disappear into his jacket like some creepy magician, the kind that would give kids the need for therapy for the rest of their lives.
“According to the doorway, we are in a place called Apa Sambetei, but that can’t be right,” he commented, now looking around as if confused as to what we should be looking at.
“Why not?” I asked him.
“Because Apa Sambetei is supposed to be an ocean where souls are believed to travel along before descending into the underworld.”
I scoffed, continuing to toe the sand and telling him,
“Doesn’t look like much water to me.”
“And the ruler of this realm is who?” Orth wisely asked next.
“Nefartatul,” Marcus replied with a stern expression, and one that didn’t match the eternal makeup forever painted upon his skin.
“Ha, kinda sounds like Nosferatu… wait, no fucking way, you’re shittin’ me right?!” Orth said after he saw Marcus casually shrug in response.
“Nefartatul, also known as Nesuferitul, 'the offensive one', and modern-day culture would know him best as that tall glass of emaciated, bald fun, Nosferatu,” Marcus said, making me scoff a laugh.
“You mean that shit isn’t a myth?” Orth asked as we began to make our way to fuck knows where.
“Aren’t we all supposed to be a myth?” I pointed out as I looked around for any type of clue as way of direction we should take.
“Although he is described as a Vampiric creature, that’s only down to the blood consumption,” Marcus told us both as he too took to looking around as if trying to make some sense of the place and obvious lack of water.
“Blood consumption?” Orth asked. He seemed to be the only one not focused on the strange crimson desert ahead of us.
“I’m afraid Baldy went a bit bloodthirsty his first-time round in the mortal realm and well, that shit tends to stay with people,” Marcus replied, making my brother shake his head and say,
“And people think we are animals.”
“Technically, I would say…”
“Technically, you’re not gonna say shit, that’s what you’re gonna do,” I warned, giving Marcus one of my classic, ‘I will rip your throat out’ looks, making him stop dead in his tracks.
“I second that,” my brother added as he passed him, sounding smug.
“Fine, you wanna both bury your beastie heads in the sand to what you are, then you go right ahead, there is enough of it around… no trees to piss up against though,” Marcus remarked.
I ignored the muttered jab and focused on the sand part.
“Speaking of which, where the fuck are we going? Because there isn’t exactly a lot around here, Marc.”
“Yes, there isn’t exactly an ocean or Transylvania either,” he commented, making Orth snap back over his shoulder,
“Fuck off, what you saying now, that Dracula is gonna pop up and give us a fangy hello? More likely to meet a fucking mummy in all this fucking sand… gonna take me forever to get this shit out my boots.”
“Yes, and out of your shit for brains too, as no, what I mean is Transylvania is Latin, meaning the land beyond the forest… I was being ironic, dickhead,” Marcus argued, and they were starting to sound like a pair of bickering old woman.
“Ironically moronic perhaps,” Orth replied.
I rolled my eyes at the thought of dealing with these two for however long it was going to take us to find fucking anything in this godforsaken sand pit.
“Cut the shit, you two, I need you both to focus,” I barked in exasperation.
“Focus on what, J? You want me to piss in the sand and make you a castle?” my brother snapped back, making me release a frustrated sigh before turning back to face him.
“No, what I want is for you to help me and stop bitchin’ about the fucking sand!”
At this his eyes focused on something beyond me before growing wide with surprise. Then he pointed behind me and asked,
“Er… can I bitch about that?”
I turned around and the second I saw what was coming, I couldn’t help but groan in return…
“Yeah, brother… you can complain about that.”