Chapter 8: Just Breathe

The moment Captain Francois fired on Mike Radley, Ingrid’s adrenaline surged and time crawled to a halt. She could see the pain and shock written across Mike’s face as the impact of the musketball caused him to spin and lose his balance, tumbling backward over the crouched mermaid behind him. Leilani tried to stop him from going over, but it was too late. Momentum pulled them both over the cliff’s edge and the darkness took them.

Ratu let out a primal scream, her skin rupturing to reveal scales beneath. Fire spiraled along her body as she raised clawed hands upward and summoned bursts of molten rock from the ground at Francois’ feet. The Captain’s smug look was replaced with surprise as he danced out of the way, suddenly very nimble compared to the man who had struggled to trudge up the mountain earlier that day. A golden sphere of light formed around him as he holstered his gun and pulled out a gem-encrusted buckler, keeping his sword raised.

“It’ll take—” was all he managed to say before lightning split the sky.

Now blind and deaf, Ingrid stumbled around the rocks, crying out in frustration. A warm hand took her by the wrist and pulled her forward. Not knowing whether she was about to be thrown to her death or pulled to safety, she decided to take a chance and followed.

By the time her eyes had cleared, she realized they were running back into the forest. The trees had been blasted apart by the lightning into massive splinters that still glowed along the edges with heat, leaving them a path to follow. Ratu led Ingrid behind Quetzalli who was walking forward, a massive streamer of electricity connecting her to the sky as lightning spiraled out from her body. Skeletons and night marchers alike fled from her fury, disappearing into the trees. The ringing sound in Ingrid’s ears abated, allowing Ratu’s voice to finally penetrate.

“If there’s anything left of him, leave him to me,” she declared. Balls of fire now hovered around them like tiny moons, incinerating anyone who came close.

“You’ll have to fight me for it,” Quetzalli declared, her voice now far deeper than Ingrid had ever heard it. “I’ll tear him apart.”

Ingrid held up her wand, keeping it pointed at the trees in case something came out. She only used it on one occasion, when a night marcher tackled a skeleton into their path. With a burst of light, she dispersed the night marcher, then destroyed the skeleton’s skull. The bones rattled on the ground for several moments, then finally went still. The action felt small compared to the sheer magic pouring off the women nearby, but she needed to contribute somehow.

“Wait.” Ratu held up a hand for them to stop, then moved to the nearest tree. She held one of her fireballs nearby and scowled at a bloody handprint. “I think this is his.”

Quetzalli swore in an unknown language, then blasted a nearby tree in frustration. A powerful electrical field built up in the area, and Ingrid crouched down and touched her knees together, afraid she might be struck next.

“I can follow him,” Ratu said as the field abated. “But we need to be quick. He has a head start on us.”

Ingrid rose and looked back over her shoulder. As far as she could tell, they were only a hundred feet from the cliff. Quetzalli had summoned a blast of lightning that had launched Captain Francois at least this distance. She thought back to what Mike had said about the ultimate fate of the people waiting on his front lawn and shivered.

“I should ... probably go,” she said, her hands shaking as the adrenaline left her.

“We won’t make you come with us,” Ratu told her, then turned serpentine eyes on the forest. “But this place is crawling with dead and spirit alike. I would prefer you at least remain with us until you have a better chance of survival.”

“I ... okay.” Seeing the wisdom in the decision, she limped behind the naga as they moved into the trees. Branches scratched at her exposed arms and legs, the sounds of the forest occasionally ruptured by a human scream. Wherever her team was, they were being slaughtered. The same fate likely awaited her if she went off on her own.

In all her time with the Order, she had never been in the middle of such chaos. There had been a few large-scale operations where things had gotten messy, but never to the extent that she had been separated from her team. As for Wallace, the man had been a constant presence, but now he was simply gone. When the fight had first broken out, he had saved her by leading a trio of night marchers away from the tent they shared. Ingrid had tried to follow, but between her twisted ankle and the sheer scope of how badly things had gotten, Wallace had vanished into the darkness with the spirits hot on his trail. Left behind to fend for herself, she had been surprised when Mike Radley of all people had come to her rescue.

“Hold.” Ratu raised her hand and brought the group to a stop. She knelt down and pressed her palm into the soil. “Our prey is no longer running.”

“How do you know?” asked Ingrid.

“His vibrations have stopped. Either he is holding his ground, or has taken to the trees. Wait a second.” She scrunched up her face. “There are others, all converging on his spot. We must use caution.”

“It is they who should be wary of us.” Quetzalli’s hair billowed out behind her and the air crackled with energy. Up above, thunder boomed and the forest shook.

“What are you?” whispered Ingrid, then flinched when Quetzalli turned to face her with glowing eyes.

“Extremely pissed off.” Quetzalli raised a hand to her forehead and fiddled with something Ingrid couldn’t see. A silver band appeared between her fingers, and she slid it away from her head to reveal a magnificent silver horn. At the tip of the horn, streamers of electricity danced along the twisted surface.

“You think that’s wise?” asked Ratu.

“I don’t want to break it when I vaporize the Captain,” Quetzalli replied, shoving the ring in a pocket. “Try not to breathe in after I do it. You might inhale what’s left of him.”

“Holy shit,” Ingrid muttered under her breath.

“Indeed,” Ratu added.

They continued forward at a slower pace, pausing occasionally to listen to the forest. The night marchers appeared rarely now, but didn’t pay the trio any attention. Instead, they continued their hunt for the Captain. On occasion, a battle would erupt nearby between the spirits and the skeletons, but there was no sign of the living.

The thick canopy of the forest opened to reveal the masts of a ship sitting in a watershed that was filled by a ten foot tall waterfall nearly fifty feet away. Night marchers lurked along the edge of the water, and skeletal remains had been scattered on the shore. On the deck of the ship, skeletons stood motionless, their eyeless sockets facing the marchers.

Quetzalli swore in a language Ingrid wasn’t familiar with, and thunder rumbled overhead. “I can’t hit him on that boat,” she said, then crouched down by a tree.

“Hmm.” Ratu joined her, then waved for Ingrid to come closer. The mage limped up and knelt between them. “Our prey has summoned his ship in the middle of the forest. The marchers seem very upset by his presence.”

“They hate him,” Quetzalli added, her eyes sparkling.

“How do you know that?” asked Ingrid.

Quetzalli shrugged. “I am uncertain, but I know this like I know my own heart.”

Ratu cleared her throat. “Academically speaking, there is ample evidence to suggest a fairly large connection between the spiritual realm and the electromagnetic spectrum. It isn’t a stretch to believe this may connect you with them.” She summoned a ball of fire in her hands and cast it into the woods behind them. “Let’s try a test of our own.”

Puzzled as to why the naga had done that, Ingrid turned her attention back toward the ship just as Ratu’s fireball emerged from a different part of the woods and smashed into the side of the ship. Before anything could burn, the water swirled up like a massive tongue and licked the flames away. The skeletons on guard lifted a variety of ranged weapons from spears to guns, and opened fire on where the fireball had come from.

All three of them crouched behind the trees and waited for the gunfire to cease. Ratu looked at Quetzalli first, then Ingrid.

“I did not expect guns,” she said with a frown. “Some sort of magical shield, but modern weaponry?”

Ingrid almost laughed. “Yeah, well, we should have. The man has an actual skeleton crew. Why not give them guns? They wouldn’t be effective on the spirits, but they work perfectly fine on the living.”

There was a long moment of silence and Ingrid realized what she had just said. Quetzalli looked like she was going to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, remembering that Mike had been shot in front of them.

“We can’t dwell on that now, we have to—damn.” Ratu was looking at the ship. “I think we missed our opportunity.”

Ingrid moved to see what was happening. The ship’s sails had unfurled, allowing the craft to move toward a collection of rocks where the water poured over the edge. The hull seemed to melt around the massive stones that formed the retention wall and then the ship dropped far enough that only the top of the mast was visible.

Around them, the forest whispered in hushed voices as the night marchers moved to keep up.

“Is he really going to sail that thing out to sea that way?” Ingrid looked at Ratu.

“It changes shape. As long as the river is wider than a canoe, then why not?” The naga let out a frustrated sigh.

“Shh.” Quetzalli held a finger to her lips and cocked her head. “We need to get away from here.”

“Why?” demanded Ingrid.

“The spirits are frustrated they can’t reach him,” the silver-haired woman explained as she stood. As if on cue, somebody screamed in the distance. “So they turn their hunt towards those they can get.”

“So you aren’t going to chase him?” Ingrid asked.

“No.” Ratu looked at Francois’ ship, then up at the sky. “Without knowing more about his ship, we are just putting ourselves in danger. We should seek shelter from the spirits until we can plot our next move.”

“Maybe we should go after Mike, then?” The dazzling lights around Quetzalli’s horn faded from sight. “I was hoping we could take Francois down quickly, but this became complicated.”

Ratu nodded. “I am sure he requires our assistance. It will take us time to find him.”

If he survived, Igrid added mentally. She knew better than to voice the thought out loud. Nothing short of a miracle would have saved the man. Not only were they well over a hundred feet up over the valley, but the rocks and trees below ensured that the landing would be anything but gentle.

“Let’s stop by the camp first and get our supplies. We will have need of them.” Ratu looked at Ingrid. “We will look for your people as well along the way.”

“I ... appreciate that.” Taken aback, Ingrid followed.

The sky rumbled, but instead of lightning, it was just rain. The women moved back to the camp, but it was devoid of life. Bones were everywhere, revealing that the skeletons had already come through and suffered losses. Ratu kept watch while Quetzalli went through their gear and repacked it, combining the important contents of Mike’s bag with their own. Ingrid was allowed to collect her own belongings, but it was clear someone had already gone through them and taken anything magical. Silently hoping that it was Wallace, she packed up some extra food and the group headed for the cliff.

Along the way, they were attacked twice by the night marchers, but Ratu and Ingrid were able to easily shake them off with their magic. Ingrid’s abilities were limited to the power of the wands she carried, but the naga’s supply of magic seemed inexhaustible. If Ratu had been awake when the attack first began, maybe the Order would have mounted a better defense and held the line. Ingrid’s ankle throbbed in agony, which broke her trail of thought. She forced herself forward through the pain to keep up with Ratu and Quetzalli.

Once at their destination, Ingrid and Quetzalli kept watch while Ratu knelt at the edge of the cliff and sent a glowing ball of light down the side. Several minutes passed, and the drumbeats of the marchers grew louder as they closed in on their location.

“They’re getting closer,” Quetzalli noted, her eyes narrowed at the winding path they had taken to climb the cliff.

Ingrid nodded, her heart pounding in rhythm with the drums. The occasional human screams had come to a halt, meaning that her team had escaped or been killed. She was too numb to process the latter thought, and focused her energy on watching the forest.

“He’s not down there,” Ratu said from the side, standing up as she tucked the glowing light inside her robes. For just a moment, Ingrid thought it looked like an insect. “Or rather, his body isn’t.”

“Leilani?” asked Ingrid.

“She is missing as well. Whatever happened, at least one of them survived to carry the other away.” Ratu let out a deep breath and put a hand to her chest. “But it is too dangerous to investigate further. For now, we can only hope.”

Shadows flitted around the cliffs as night marchers appeared. Quetzalli sent out several bursts of lightning from her fingers, which scattered the hunters.

“More of them are coming,” she announced, creating a sphere of lightning between her hands and then casting it down the mountain. As the glowing sphere shot down between the trees, the night marchers were briefly illuminated, revealing dozens of them.

“This way.” Ratu led them further up the mountain, then looked over the side. “It doesn’t seem like it, but there is a way down from here.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ingrid replied, the glow from her wand faltering. She had used most of its magic in the initial attack, and the other wand would have to recharge before she could use it.

The naga led them onto a sharp outcropping as the night marchers emerged at the peak. More spirits appeared in the forest, blocking off their escape. Ratu crouched near the edge and tapped the stone beneath their feet. A crack appeared, and for a moment, Ingrid thought they would all slide down the mountain atop the massive slab. Instead, the rock beneath them shifted slightly to reveal an extremely narrow path below.

“I’ll go first,” Ratu said as she slid into the crevasse. Ingrid went next, tucking her wand away and looking back long enough to see Quetzalli face the spirits defiantly. Then she was shrouded in darkness for several seconds as she slid along her stomach and down onto the ridge below the cliffs. They were hidden by foliage that dangled down from above, and the only source of illumination was the starry sky seen through gaps in the clouds.

“Wait here,” Ratu whispered, guiding Ingrid’s hand to a pair of roots. The naga shifted past her, and then Quetzalli joined them. When Ingrid bumped into the silver-haired woman, she received a nasty shock and almost screamed.

“Sorry,” Quetzalli whispered. Up above, the rock shifted again and then Ratu moved past them.

“I’ve sealed the exit,” Ratu told them quietly. “We should be able to lose them if we’re careful. This spot is not easily reached from above.”

“Where are we going?” asked Ingrid, suddenly aware of how wet her hands were.

“There’s a refuge we can take down below,” Ratu replied. “The mountain told me about it.”

“Of course it did,” Ingrid replied. “She talks to ghosts, you talk to rocks. I’m just here as your token human.”

“You don’t have to come,” Ratu reminded her as she moved down the path.

“Of course I’m coming,” Ingrid said, her teeth gritted in frustration. “I’m relying very heavily on sarcasm to maintain my sanity.”

Ratu looked back at her and nodded. “As long as you keep your sarcasm quiet, this is acceptable.”

The narrow path was really just a rocky ledge no more than two feet wide in places that descended at an angle into the valley below. The heavy rain made the surface slick in places, but Ratu made sure to summon handholds for them to use. Up above, the drumbeats of the night marchers faded, but Ingrid knew better. Already, she could see torchlight twinkling in the valley below. It was an ancestral army, likely the biggest one in recorded history. The spirits of the island had gone to war, and she had been caught in the middle.

A chill had settled in the air, causing Ingrid to shiver. Ratu’s movements had slowed dramatically, likely a result of the temperature, but Quetzalli didn’t seem bothered by it. They were about twenty feet above the forest canopy when the naga let out a sigh of relief and vanished.

“Wait, what?” Ingrid fumbled around for the next handhold when her wrist was grabbed. She tried to pull away at first, but then allowed herself to be guided into a gap in the stone. In the dark, she waited patiently as Ratu repeated the process with Quetzalli.

“Where are we?” she asked once they were inside the cave.

“An old lava vent,” Ratu said. “Let’s go a bit deeper, and then we can light a fire. I’m freezing.”

The naga guided them into the darkness, sending her magic ahead in the form of several flaming orbs which illuminated the back wall of the cave. It was clear that the lava vent had long ago caved in, but this small tunnel still remained down below. A thin stream of water ran down the middle and disappeared through cracks in the floor.

The ceiling glistened with moisture as the fiery orbs coalesced into a small ball of fire in the middle of the room. Nearby, Ratu huddled over it, her skin so pale it was ghastly.

“If I lose consciousness, the fire goes out and we’ll freeze,” she explained as she shrugged out of her wet clothes. “You may want to find something we can burn in case I fall asleep.”

Nodding her understanding, Ingrid rummaged through her bag for a couple of firestarters, then grabbed a small hatchet and moved along the edge of the cave. Roots dangled from above, which she cut free and set near Ratu’s fire to dry. Quetzalli had stripped down naked as well, and was busy clearing a spot for the blankets they had taken from their campsite.

Once Ingrid had gathered sufficient material for burning, she moved next to the others and knelt by the fire, holding her hands out to gather its warmth. Nearby, Ratu and Quetzalli’s clothes were drying on a rock. Seeing the wisdom in this decision, she removed her clothing as well, but immediately changed into something dry from her bag.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“We wait until morning.” Ratu yawned. “Then we begin our search for Mike anew. The night marchers should be gone by then, but we should plan for their return tomorrow night. Until we learn what has lured them out, we must assume it is related to our presence here.”

“And you have a way to find Mike?”

Ratu exchanged an odd look with Quetzalli, then nodded. “I suppose there’s no reason to keep this a secret anymore.”

“I agree.” Quetzalli clapped her hands twice and a pair of lights emerged from beneath the blankets. One was green and the other blue. The lights flew over and landed on Quetzalli’s leg, then transformed into a pair of insects.

No, that wasn’t quite correct. On further inspection, they were women with insect-like features. Leaning in for a closer look, Ingrid realized she was staring at a couple of fairies.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered. “How are you going to get fairies to help out? They’re notoriously unrelia—ow!” The blue fairy had picked up a small rock and thrown it, hitting Ingrid just below the eye.

“Mike has one with him,” Ratu explained as she snatched up the blue fairy. “And they are quite good at finding each other if they ever want to be fed again.”

The green fairy let out a nervous laugh as her sister squeezed out from between Ratu’s fingers and nodded her assent. Both fairies moved closer to the flames, and Ratu tossed some of the dried roots in, which started burning after a couple of minutes. The naga yawned and slumped in place, her eyes narrowing to slits as sleep came for her.

“I can keep watch,” Ingrid volunteered. “I’m not tired.”

“Good,” replied Ratu, her words slurring. Quetzalli didn’t respond. Instead, she wrapped herself up in the nearest blanket and curled into a ball.

A little surprised at the willingness of the others to trust her, Ingrid moved toward the opening of the vent, which was lit dimly from the fire. Moving on her hands and knees, she settled into a comfortable position with a view of the valley, or what she could see of it. There were dozens of flickering lights now, maybe even hundreds. The night marchers were certainly being thorough.

Leaning her head against the cold, damp stone of the earth, she allowed herself to process the events of the day. Was Wallace okay? Had anybody else survived? Why had Francois shot Mike? Why were the marchers out in such force?

Staring out into the darkness, wand held casually in her palm, it was easy for her mind to drift back to another cave on a different island. She was eleven, and her family had taken a vacation to Greece.

“Dad?” Ingrid lowered her disposable camera away from the plane’s window. “Are we going to land on any of the islands?”

Her father laughed and rubbed her head. “Most of the islands here don’t have airstrips, pumpkin. But this is a fun way to see them all, right?”

“Uh huh.” Ingrid took a picture of her father, then cranked the wheel on her camera. “Why are they called the Cyclades?”

“Because they form a circle.” Her mother sat in the row across from them, her face pressed against the glass. She turned to look at Ingrid, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “In Greek mythology, they used to be nymphs.”

“What’s a nymph?”

“A water spirit. They angered the god Poseidon, who turned them into islands.” Her mom smiled. “I guess it was nice of them to make a neat little circle.”

“Dad, who is Poseidon.”

“God of the sea,” he replied.

“And he’s real?”

“Ugh, no.” This came from the seat in front of her. Her older brother was ignoring the scenery out his window, focusing entirely on the handheld gaming system in his hands. “Poseidon isn’t real. He’s just like Santa.”

“If he’s not real, then how did these islands get here, dummy?” Ingrid stuck her tongue out at Ricky.

“Kids, enough.” Her father patted her knee. “It doesn’t matter how the islands got here, only that we get a chance to enjoy them for their beauty. The world is full of magic for anybody willing to see it.”

“Huh.” Ingrid raised her camera to take another picture but noticed a large shadow had appeared over the wing. “That’s a really big bird.”

Her father looked past her out the window. “That shouldn’t be—”

She never heard his next words as a screeching noise filled the cabin of the Twin Otter airplane, followed by a loud pop like opening a shaken can of soda. Winged creatures latched onto the plane, things that were all scales and fangs as they started stripping chunks off the fuselage. The plane tilted dangerously to one side and a scream came from the cockpit as it was filled with fire that streaked down the aisle and scorched Ingrid’s parents. Her father wrapped his arms around her, protecting her from the worst of the flames.

Ingrid shifted against the cold stone of the cave, her eyes tracking the torches in the valley below. Even she shied away from the vivid memory of her own father burning alive as he had used his body to shield her. The cold damp of the cave called to her, and she slipped into her memories once again.

The plane would have crashed nose down if not for the drakes frantically clawing at it, attempting to carry it back to the nest. Everyone screamed when it skipped across the ocean surface before slamming into the sand, and Ingrid found herself hanging upside down, her hands dangling.

Her mother moaned in the seat up ahead. Her father had gone still, the light in his kind eyes burned away by the anguished expression on his dead face.

The drakes landed nearby, leaving clawed prints in the sand as they peered in the aircraft’s broken windows. A smaller one shoved its face through Ingrid’s window, causing her to scream in panic. This immediately mobilized the drakes, which flooded through the busted cockpit and began dragging off bodies. Ingrid undid her seatbelt and watched in horror as both her mother and brother were dragged out of their seats.

The only reason she was able to escape was her small size. Crawling on her belly, she was able to squirm past spilled luggage and another passenger who had managed to fall free of their seat. Toward the tail of the plane, the hull had split, allowing her to squeeze free before the monstrous lizards could reach her. The shrieks of terror from the cabin were rapidly replaced by the sounds of happy drakes tearing apart their meals.

As she ran, she was knocked down from behind by the claws of a drake that had been circling overhead. Her hand chanced upon a ragged piece of wreckage, slicing open her own palm as she grabbed it. Picking it up, she swung it at the beast behind her. Though she didn’t hurt the creature, the attack startled it enough that she was able to run another thirty feet or so to a nearby cluster of rocks on the edge of the beach. The opening was just big enough for her and her newfound weapon to squeeze through. The drake that had chased her on foot squawked in indignation as it shoved its head through the opening and missed its meal by less than a foot.

It was there that she maintained vigil for the next four days. She watched in silence as the drakes carried off the remains of her family, shivering when the tide came in and covered her ankles. To stay alive, she licked moisture from the walls and slashed at the drakes whenever they shoved their heads into her sanctuary. She got lucky a couple of times and managed to slash them in the eyes, which discouraged them from further activity. It was there that she had learned to hate the magical world, fueled by her desire to survive. She was little more than prey, watching silently from inside her cave with grim determination.

That sense of hunt or be hunted had never really left her. Perched up in her hiding spot in the cliffs, she vowed to survive this, too. Behind her in the cave, she could hear the occasional shifting of its occupants. With Wallace absent, she felt vulnerable, but having Ratu and Quetzalli by her side gave her comfort. Though she had reasons to doubt their intentions, they had done nothing to earn her distrust. Whatever happened next, she wouldn’t have to face it on her own.

Long hours passed in her drowsy state. Sometimes she would blink for only a moment and discover that the torches had changed position entirely. The steady beats of the night marchers ebbed and flowed like the tide, and she stared out at them until they became tiny motes of light that floated on an inky canvas. They gathered together in the darkness, creating a face that looked like her father’s in his final moments.

Ingrid’s eyes snapped open and she blinked rapidly, visions of the past fading like smoke caught in a breeze. Down below, long shadows had appeared between the trees as the first light of day kissed the mountainside. There was no sign of the night marchers.

“You’re awake.”

Startled, Ingrid looked to the other side of the opening to see Ratu dressed and sipping from a tea cup. When she tried to sit up, she realized that she was beneath a blanket.

“Oh, fuck me, I fell asleep on watch.” Ashamed, she pushed away the blankets.

“Hardly.” The naga grinned. “When I came to take your place, you tried to argue with me that you didn’t need sleep. Your body told me otherwise, so I simply waited for you to lose consciousness and covered you up.”

Ingrid winced. That hadn’t been very professional of her. “Why not move me to the fire?”

Ratu shrugged. “You seemed happier out here, though I can’t explain why.” She stuck a hand into her sleeve and pulled out an additional tea cup. “Would you like some?”

“Please.” Ingrid leaned forward to accept the cup from Ratu. The naga picked up a kettle resting on a stone nearby and poured it into the cup. The two of them sat in silence for several minutes, drinking their tea. Eventually, Ratu shook her sleeves and a blue creature tumbled free.

“Cerulea.” Ratu pinched the fairy’s wings and lifted her so they were at eye level. “Time to get to work.”

The fairy dangled there for a few seconds before yawning, then shook herself free of the naga’s fingers. She dropped toward the ground, but stopped in mid-air, her wings fluttering.

“Go,” Ratu commanded. “Find Mike.”

Cerulea did a pirouette and then saluted Ratu before turning into a ball of light and shooting out of the lava vent’s mouth like a bottle rocket. Ingrid watched the fairy vanish into the woods below.

“You really think she will find him?”

Ratu nodded. “She’ll find her sister,” she replied. “And then report back.”

“So what do we do until then?”

The naga sipped at her tea and then gazed down into the valley. She let out a sigh and relaxed against the stone wall behind her.