Chapter 5 Rifts #2
And I’ll just look for a little while. The Leviathan won’t see me. Just quick and quiet and invisible.
At first, all he could see was light. Blinding light. His eyes watered with it, but the spell cast on him to give him greater night vision adjusted and soon he could soon see clearly again. The hallway was short. About twenty feet long before it opened up into the station.
He remembered what many of these underground L stations were like.
The floor would extend about ten feet from the wall.
There would be a thick yellow line of paint to indicate where people should stand so as not to get hit by the trains.
The train tracks would slice through the space beyond that yellow line and then disappear once more into another arch.
He could still remember the smell of hot grease and electricity from when he’d ridden the trains himself.
I never considered there would come a day when I’d never smell it again, Finley realized. I’d come down to go to the Museum of Science and Industry. All by myself. Now, everything in the museums is likely destroyed, rotting or gone.
He imagined the paintings in the Art Institute of Chicago.
Those that weren’t destroyed by damp or rot, would likely be dulled by dust. The great masterworks that were on display there were likely gone.
Lost now truly to the ages. Only this generation would remember anything about pieces like A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.
It was done all in simple points of paint showing people wandering by a lake in 1884.
American Gothic with the severe look of the farmer and his wife glaring at the viewer.
Nighthawks showing the glow of a diner at night. All likely destroyed.
Rohannan should be trying to save them instead of butting heads with Vesslan! Or what about the libraries? Is anyone going inside of those and saving the moldering books? Our literature, our history…
It was easy to forget all about it in the glory of Tyrael where magic was everywhere.
Elven voices were always raised in song.
Dwarven laughter lit up the night. The world where high fantasy beings lived and breathed and magic was everyday was the world that Finley had always longed for.
He still did. He loved it. But coming back to Chicago…
he saw that things were being lost. Irrevocably lost.
That is for another day to worry about. Right now I need to get through this.
He refocused on what he was seeing. Which wasn’t much. All he could glimpse from here was the opening of the hallway. So just a slice of action. If he crept down the rest of the way…
No! I promised Rhalyf and what good would that do? I might cause someone to get hurt. Besides, I can see some of what’s going on.
In fact, at that moment Declan swept across the space. He had his kitchen knife out. The edge was gleaming a hot blue-white. The coils of a Leviathan snapped towards Declan.
Finley could only see a fraction of those smoky, oily coils as they sought to curl around his best friend’s torso and crush him in their embrace.
But Declan somehow wasn’t there when the coils contracted.
He’d leaped into the air and landed on top of them.
He brought the broken point of the kitchen knife down, stabbing it deep into the coils.
There was a rattling hiss and a shrill scream that had Finley covering his ears. Memories of the war flooded him again.
The slithering is getting closer to us! After the human cries had died away. The slithering was so loud.
Cold sweat suddenly coated his brow and upper lip. He felt it trailing down his spine. How many times had he heard those unearthly screams as Gemma huddled against his body. He’d curled over her protectively, praying that if something got past Declan that it would take him and leave her alone.
I couldn’t protect her! I couldn’t protect Declan! I couldn’t protect myself…
The coils Declan perched on thrashed and his best friend lightly jumped off, slashing with the kitchen knife downwards in an almost graceful arc.
The coils were severed in two. The darkness congealed into almost a solid mass for a moment and then there was a clunk as a fang appeared and rolled away into the darkness.
One down! I think he’s better killing them now than before, Finley thought a little hysterically even as his breathing eased a little. Aquilan thinks Declan’s human, but he’ll have seen him kill Leviathan… What will he think after this? What is he thinking already?
Declan leaped out of the hallway and was lost to Finley’s sight.
Whatever comfort he’d found by seeing Declan was swept away.
But then Elasha appeared. Though he found her parochial and prejudiced, she was no coward.
Coils boiled up from the track and attempted to curl around her ankles.
She did a backflip, slicing coils beneath her with a ballet dancer’s grace.
There were more of those shrieks and roars.
They echoed in the room. She sprang out of view as well.
Then it was Helgrom’s turn. He heard the dwarf’s deep voice boom with laughter and satisfaction.
There was a terrible clank and crash as Helgrom brought his hammer down onto yet more coils that had slithered up from below the lip of the tracks.
The darkness became smoke and drifted away.
There was another clink and another fang was left somewhere out of sight.
But Helgrom was not done. He gripped the hammer with both hands and he swung himself in a powerful circle with the hammer facing outwards. As he spun like a deranged top, the hammer struck coil after coil, sending them flying back. He spun out of sight.
Glom suddenly jumped into frame. His mouth was full of fangs.
Finley watched as he tipped his massive head back and swallowed them down.
As if in revenge, a coil snapped down from the ceiling, aiming at Glom’s back.
The naki was faster. He sprang up towards the coil and clamped his mouth onto it. The coil writhed, seeking to get free.
It lifted Glom’s four squat legs up off the floor.
Only the naki’s tail was touching the ground, but Glom did not let go.
He worried at the coil and finally his sharp teeth snapped shut and the coil was severed.
Another ear-shattering screech filled the air and then a fang dropped.
Glom let out a warble of triumph and slurped the fang up to join the rest in his belly.
He was leaning out farther now. He hadn’t seen Aquilan or Rhalyf yet.
He could see the colors from their magic, but he couldn’t see it.
He had to see it. He leaned out further.
A purple plasma blast streaked across the opening.
Finley’s lips parted. It was hot white in the center, but dark purple on the outside.
When it struck what had appeared to him to be a wall of darkness opposite the train tracks, he saw his mistake.
The purple plasma splattered in all directions, purple lightning crawling along coils… hundreds of coils. The whole back wall wasn’t a wall at all. It was Leviathans. Finley blinked in shock even as his insides suddenly felt encased in ice.
“Aquilan, ace ut aya vie!” Rhalyf cried. He was speaking in Katyr. Finley translated it, “Aquilan, call the dawn!”
Golden light bloomed like a miniature Sun rising as yet another streak of magic struck the “wall” of Leviathan.
The coils were outlined in gold as they burned away like dead leaves in a roaring fire.
The back wall was now white instead of black.
The same white tile he remembered. But the darkness surged back almost immediately.
Coils! So many coils!
At some point, Finley had simply stepped out into the hallway. He stood there, open-mouthed staring, at the wall of blackness. He had to do something! There were too many Leviathan. His friends were in trouble! He…
Coils dropped down over the opening of the hallway, completely obscuring it. The light from the magic was snuffed out and complete blackness descended. Finley gasped. He sounded so loud. Echoing.
His magically enhanced vision took a moment to adjust. And when it did, he almost wished it hadn’t.
A massive Leviathan was coiling there. It had separated from the group that covered the hallway and was oiling towards him.
His breath caught in his throat. His heart trembled in his chest. He staggered backwards and fell, tripping over his own two feet.
He kept pulling himself backwards. Crawling like a crab.
He couldn’t look away from it. It slithered towards him.
He thought he heard a pleasured sigh escape from a mouth somewhere in its coils.
“G-get back!” Finley gasped and stuck one hand out towards the encroaching creature as if a fireball might somehow magically bloom on his palm and streak out towards it.
But nothing happened of course.
Because humans didn’t have magic.
They were weak.
They were prey.
They were useless.
He was useless.
And he was going to die.
Finley knew it down to his bones. The others would not be able to break through the mass of Leviathans before this one was done with him.
He imagined Declan’s anguished face as he cradled Finley’s broken form in his arms, calling his name.
Glom would curl around Declan protectively.
Snaglak would be on his haunches moaning.
Rhalyf would be staring down at his hands, wishing he had cast yet one more protective spell on Finley.
Helgrom would be leaning heavily on the hilt of his hammer with tears in his eyes.
Golden light would pour out of Aquilan as the Sun King tried to bring him back, but his soul would have left this paltry form.
He even imagined Elasha with a hand covering her lips in grief.
Yes, that’s how it would be.
Poor, stupid, weak human Finley. Dead because humans didn’t have magic and this brave new world killed those who didn’t.
The Leviathan was at the mouth of the hallway. He sensed its eagerness. He had always known that the Leviathan weren’t dumb creatures. They were malevolent. And in the shushing sound of the scales, he also heard a tittering. It was pleased he was frightened. His fear delighted it.
Finley’s back hit the wall.
There was nowhere else he could crawl.
The Leviathan slithered forward eagerly. It had its first meal of the night in him. He turned his head and closed his eyes tightly.
I’m so sorry, he thought to no one and everyone.
Even with his shut eyelids, the flare of blue-white light of a rift pierced the darkness he had sought to hide in.
The Leviathan let out a startled rattle and hiss.
The wall at his back was suddenly not there.
He felt cold air curl around his neck and the scent of stone and water and magic surrounded him.
Finley’s eyelids flew open.
He turned his head. A rift had opened directly behind him. The fingers of his right hand were actually touching the Under Dark. And not just any place in the Under Dark.
Illithor!
Finley recognized its soaring purple towers. The Leviathan hissed menacingly as it realized there was suddenly someplace for its prey to retreat. Even if it was the Under Dark. And Illithor. Neither of which were safe at the best of times and it was not the best of times.
But it's a chance I’m willing to take. Besides, I’ll get to see Illithor once more before I die.
Finley scrambled through the rift. He clawed his way from tile to stone and he kept dragging himself even as he heard the dry slithering sound of the Leviathan growing as it surged towards him. But then there was a flash of purple light and a shriek that was cut off short.
Finley was blinded again. He couldn’t move. He had bumped into something. Was the Leviathan behind him? No, no, the slithering sound was gone. He blinked rapidly and saw a pair of… bare feet?
Bare feet. Bare ankles. Bare calves. With tattoos on them. So many tattoos. And a long purple and black section of cloth that hung between those strong legs like flowy pants, but these were cut up the sides.
A hand was suddenly in Finley’s face. Long fingered. Nails slightly pointed. More tattoos even on the palm. He was being offered a hand up. Finley took that hand and was helped to his feet. The skin was cool and silky smooth. It released him almost immediately.
He swayed a little once he was up, his mind and body disconnected due to his belief that he was about to die.
But he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dying. Not yet.
Not then. His eyes focused on the bare chest–also covered with tattoos–and then the long length of silvery white hair, shaved short on one side.
Red eyes like fires in the dark.
A smiling mouth.
Beautiful.
And terrible.
Finley’s lips parted. “So it’s true.” His voice sounded rusty as if he had been screaming for hours.
He cleared his throat. “And that means it must be you. It could only be you.” He swallowed again.
“Bare feet. Who else would walk in bare feet and practically no clothes in the Under Dark, but you, King Vex.”
The smile grew. “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you properly, Finley.”