Iris and Ty undertake a rescue mission to the ruins of Brooklyn. But first they must survive the abandoned subway tunnels beneath Manhattan.
Iris reforms the Wild Hunt with her friends at Bubbles.
Ty and Iris make their way through the deserted subway tunnels beneath Manhattan in search of a dimensional gate that will allow them to cross over to Brooklyn.
An ambush by mythical monsters leaves Iris and Ty in a bad position until Darling and some unexpected allies show up.
__________
Written by Steve and Robin Pool
Voiced by Emily Woo Zeller, with Freya Kingsley as Rigan
Sound Design and Editing by DSS (Dissecting Sound & Soul). Sound effects provided by ZapSplat
Intro song “Plastic Stars” by Corey Distler https://soundcloud.com/deadmentalkingpdx
Outro song "Saguaro” by Olivia Mainville aka Via Mardot https://www.instagram.com/viamardot/
Visit Sayonaraville on our website, Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.
Copyright (c) 2022 by Uncle Robot Media, LLC
SAYONARAVILLE: MANHATTAN
EPISODE 8: WILD THINGS
INTRO: The following series contains adult themes, strong language, violence, sexuality, and drug use. Listener discretion is advised.
[INTRO MUSIC: "Plastic Stars" by Corey Distler]
“That’s it. It’s done.”
Around a small table in one of the many conference rooms nestled in his dimensionally fluid ping-pong bar slash sorcerer’s lair, Bubbles, Ty watched the others for any sign of reaction.
On the table was a bottle of spiced rum, half consumed, ringed by shot glasses; a few bottles of sparkling water; a large bowl of popcorn -- heated with sorcery instead of a microwave because all the kernels pop that way; an open bag of salt-and-pepper kettle chips; and a plate of chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies. To add ambience, Shieldmaiden, Ty’s digitally-ensorcelled A.I. system, provided a stream of 80s hits in the background.
“I thought it would be more elaborate,” Mallory said, staring at her hands, looking for any visible signs of magical alteration. “Also, am I going to turn into some kind of dog at some point? Because I really don’t want that to happen.”
“This is so exciting,” Rain added. “I’ve never been picked for a team before. I’d always had exemptions from mandatory physical education classes when I was a young dragon. Being an oracle meant that I had to be very careful about touching others.”
“Wait,” Ty interrupted. “When did you ever go to school?”
“You’re asking a celestial dragon about the importance of and opportunity for a good education? Who do you think impressed that value upon the Han?”
“Bullshit.” Ty turned to Mallory. “She’s bullshiting now, isn’t she?”
“Don’t look at me. I’ve never met any other dragons.”
“Guys!” Iris called to the others. “Look, I know that probably lacked in... Flourish? Ceremony? Whatever it is you’re used to, but I assure you that the binding did, indeed, work. And no, Mallory, you won’t ever turn into a dog. If and when you shift into your hound form, it’s more like you become a cloud of mystical force than anything else. Nothing about you becomes an actual dog. Unless you learn shapeshifting and want to turn into a dog. Which I won’t ever judge.” Iris awkwardly cleared her throat. “So, anyway, to you all, new members of the Wild Hunt, congratulations and welcome...?”
“You, uh, didn’t sound very confident there, Iris,” Ty interjected, looking a little concerned. “Any particular reason we should know about?”
“No. Not really. It’s just...well...I’ve never done this ritual before, bringing in new hound recruits. Arawn never really talked about what he did as Lord of the Hunt. What it meant. How it worked. The full range of abilities that comes with it.”
“So you’re saying that you don’t know how this works,” Mallory asked.
“No, I’m not saying that. I’ve seen him do a lot of things, as Lord of the Hunt..." Iris looked away, suddenly feeling a weight that hadn’t been there before. What the hell had she just done, reforming the Hunt as its leader with her friends as members?
Ty said, “I’m sure we’ll figure it out. It’ll be fine.”
Mallory got up and stretched. “Well, this has been fun. But now I gotta go and be the grownup in the bar.” She put a cookie in her mouth and headed for the door. “See you all later.”
Not five seconds after the door had closed, a swirling spot of fog condensed a few feet from Iris. In seconds, it took the form of Mallory.
“WHOA!” Mallory spun, disoriented and confused. Looking around, eyes wide, she settled on Iris. “What. The. Hell?! What the hell did you just do to me?”
Iris flinched. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t know if it would work or not. I-I guess it does work.”
“What works,” Mallory asked, incensed.
Rain clapped. “That was awesome!”
“I’m so sorry, Mallory. I should have told you first.”
“Impressive ability, Iris,” Ty added. “I’d love to study that power more, when we have a chance.”
“That was The Call. To summon you.”
“Summon me? Why the hell would you do that?”
“Obviously, that’s how Iris gathers the hounds for a hunt,” Rain replied. “Isn’t that right, Lord? Or is it Lady?”
“Um, yeah. Rain’s right.”
“...Or queen? What’s the right title now?”
“Not about that,” Iris said, looking at Rain. “I don’t need a title.” Looking back at Mallory, “I mean, she’s right about how the members of the Hunt all meet in the same place when a mission comes up. Arawn used to do it all the time when..."
“Yes, well, why don’t we all agree here and now that we won’t be doing that all the time. Especially during my shifts or at weird hours of the night when I’m likely to be asleep.”
“Unless it’s during an emergency,” Ty chimed in.
“I’m only providing logistical and healing support for this...club. Group. I’m not going out to fight whatever dark things are attacking this world. That’s your guys’ job.”
“You’re right, Mallory,” Iris said. “I’m sorry for summoning you just now. I promise not to do it in the future unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Okay. As long as we agree on that. Now if you will excuse me, AGAIN, I’m needed down in the bar.”
“Seconding what Mallory said,” Rain added as she yawned. “I’m also logistical support, since I never leave the bar. So please don’t go summoning me every time you go out to fight some monster. And since I’ve expended a lot of energy today already, I’m heading back to my suite to nap. Ta ta!”
“Wait. You never leave the bar?”
“It’s true,” Ty replied. “She’s got something like terrestrial agoraphobia.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she doesn’t like being outside on a physical world like earth.”
“She doesn’t...so why did she come here from what I’m guessing is some kind of celestial heaven?”
Ty shrugged. “Beats me. But the bar is sufficiently para-dimensional to keep her happy."
“And what does that mean?”
“Like, it sits in a space, or maybe non-space, between the fixed boundaries of typical X-Y-Z material dimensions. If that makes sense. There are a lot of these types of slipspaces scattered around the earth, especially after the Apocalypse that wasn’t.”
“So Bubbles isn’t really here? On earth?”
“No, it is. Just not all of it is. It’s, uh, multi-dimensional.”
Iris sighed. “Right. Whatever. But that brings up another concern. If half of the members of the Hunt aren’t actually hunters, that leaves all the field work to you and me, Ty. Until we recruit more fighting-class members. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.”
“I think we can handle it for now. You know, I used to be a soldier once upon a time. A battle mage, and a pretty damn good one, too. Plus, don’t forget, you have the resources and skills of Ashley and Rigan, and I think you mentioned the veteran hound Eve, at your disposal. Maybe even others, if you can convince them to come out and help.”
“Maybe I won’t need to...we won’t need to...call on them if we ourselves become masters of making the outcomes we need to happen happen.” She wasn’t going to fall short of expectations, again, letting other people down, letting herself down, too. There were already too few expectations of her left. That made her feel ashamed. She needed to change that.
“That’s the spirit, Iris. Spoken like a true sorcerer.”
“I was also just thinking about how we should try our best, but then I thought, fuck that. That’s aiming too low.”
“Also a sorcerer’s words. I’d say you are more than on your way to earning that esteemed designation.”
Iris smiled. “Thanks. Changing the subject, I want to talk about Brooklyn.”
“Yeah. Rigan mentioned some kind of prophecy about you going there, in an Overworld tome written by deceased souls. Can you show me the book? I’ve been dying to see it ever since I heard. I mean, not literally die, of course.”
Iris gestured with her left hand and the air, guided by golden threads, began to unlace itself around a concentrated slipspace void. As the skin of the material world peeled away, Iris pulled out a beautiful leather and wool backpack, a souvenir of a South American family trip.
Marveling at the simple, sturdy dimensional hollow, Ty said, “That’s a very well constructed pocket dimension. Where’d you learn how to make that?”
“Oh, Arawn taught me the magic for it long ago. He said that soldiers in the field always needed to have one for essentials, weapons and foodstuffs, water, blankets, and bandages, and the like. Unfortunately, I thought at the time that essentials meant drugs, and, on more than one occasion, I kind of used it to become a drug mule. For smuggling weed or, occasionally, stronger, felony-level shit in and out of places that were very frowny about things like that. I don’t know if Arawn ever knew.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Magic is by its very nature anti-establishment. There isn’t a sorcerer worth their salt that hasn’t at one time or another used their magic to bend or break the law.”
“Didn’t you used to be some kind of high-level royalty? Weren’t you the embodiment of law in your native land?”
“Who told you that?”
“Who do you think?”
“I think it’s time you let me look at that book.”
After dimming the lights, Iris removed the shadowy book from her pack. It had little weight or mass, even in the darkened room. Eldritch-energy ribbons solidified into protective gloves around Ty’s hands. The book became heavy and solid under his touch.
“The Book of the Garrulous Dead.” Ty read, admiringly. “So it does exist. Will you look at that? Hell of a name, don’t you think?”
It was thick and aged, like an early printed Latin Bible. The dry, cracked leather binding was black with gold etchings and lettering, gilding on the pages tarnished to a dull bronze. The cover’s images didn’t appear to be fixed. A gothic church with tall spires and a huge, round stained glass window became a Tudor-style public house, then, an ugly strip mall full of big-box stores on a busy suburban road. The words on the cover also shifted, not just what was written, but also how, transforming font types and sizes. Just when you thought you’d read them correctly, they’d change and you’d forget. The one fixed element was the book’s title, engraved with knife-like cuts.
Ty studied it for a long time, as though he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Seeing him lost in thought, Iris offered, “Ash mentioned that the part about Brooklyn and me was on page 384, third paragraph.”
“Does she want to be here for this? I could probably weave a spell that would allow you both to be here simultaneously. I’ve been working on one. With Rigan in mind, of course.”
“I don’t think she’d come out, to be honest. Ash doesn’t seem to like that book very much. She seemed happy for me to take custody of it. That sounds weird when I say it like that.”
“It’s confusing playing host to spiritual beings that are not you,” Ty sympathized. He opened the cover and turned to the page Iris had mentioned. Reading, he murmured, “How weird is it that some dead soul had a vision of you going to Brooklyn on what appears to be...a rescue mission?”
“It is really weird. And disconcerting.”
“When was this written?”
Even though Ty had asked out loud, his question had been directed at the book and not Iris. The page seemed to respond with some kind of glowing emission.
“Damn...What’s your birthday, Iris? Year, too, please. Excuse my indelicately asking a woman her age, but this is important.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind telling you. I was born on October 17, 1989.”
“The provenance of this entry comes from that exact day. I don’t suppose you’d know the time. Many people don’t.”
“12:45 AM. Mom was very into astrology and did readings on me all the time. Let me guess. That exactly matches the entry in the book.”
Ty nodded.
“Does it say who the author was?”
“Someone...named Adam Beckett.”
“Okay, this is getting creepy. That’s my grandfather’s name. My mom’s dad.”
“Did you ever know him?”
“No, he passed away before I..."
Iris and Ty sat in silence for a long moment, taking that in.
“What the fuck is going on, Ty!? Why is there a passage dated from the exact moment of my birth in this creepy-as-shit book, written by my dead grandpa, whom I never met, that says I’ll be going to the fucking ruins of Brooklyn, which hadn’t been destroyed at that point, on a rescue mission for a missing Knight of Avalon? Who wouldn’t have even been born then! Tell me, Ty!”
“I-I don’t know. I mean, we don’t even know if this entry is authentic and not some kind of elaborate deception. Or a joke.”
“Ash said that the book’s dead authors don’t lie and have absolutely NO sense of humor.”
“That is if the passage we’re looking at had been actually written by a ghost and not some kind of devil or demon. And if this entry’s time and date stamp hadn’t been altered.”
“Can demons or devils even mess with a book like this, let alone read and write in it?”
“I don’t know.” Ty closed the book and set it flat on the table. “Can I keep this? For further research?”
“Yes! Please! I don’t want that damn thing back. Especially if its authors are stalking me.”
“Before we do anything else, we should confirm with Rain once more that you are indeed supposed to go to Brooklyn.”
“Should I call her? Do you think she’ll be pissed if I do?”
“Yeah, go ahead. It’s important. There’s no telling where she is in the building. And I doubt she’d respond to a message spell right now.”
“Just how big is your bar? It’s weird that people can get lost here.”
The energized mist that signaled Rain’s arrival coalesced into her crouched, cartoon-cat-bathrobe-wearing form. Hair up in a sleeping cap, she brandished the glistening nail polish brush over her toes. “Okay. This better be damn important.”
“Boss.”
“Hey, Ess.” Ty looked up from his desk. Before him was an old New York subway map. Over the existing subway lines, he’d drawn in a dozen new connections with markers in red, blue, and black, each labeled. Lines that the New York Transit Authority had never known about.
Shieldmaiden came over and looked at the changes Ty had made to the map. “Looks good. I think you got them all pretty much right.”
“Thanks. I hope so.”
Frustrated, Shieldmaiden stared at Ty.
Ty frowned. “What’s with that look? Also, when did you start giving looks?”
“I started fucking giving looks when you started doing shit that I don’t understand.”
“Some of these new traits you’ve been adopting lately...I gotta say, Ess. Not a fan.”
Ignoring that, Shieldmaiden quipped, “Why, Ty? Why’d you do it?”
“Just so we’re talking about the same thing...what have I done to piss you off?” Ty murmured to himself, “Look at me. Arguing with the A.I. I made, and I don’t even know why. I should get the Nobel for this.”
“You wanna know why? I’ll tell you why. It’s because you’re being reckless. You joined the Wild Hunt. Or did you forget?”
“Yes. No, I didn’t forget. Yes, I did join it. I became a Hound of the Hunt. Why is that being reckless?”
Shieldmaiden rubbed her immaterial temples. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because it’s a Tuathan creation woven from Tuathan rituals. You remember those people, don’t you? The Tuatha de Danann. The ones who created the Wild Hunt with the goal of fucking hunting you and your former court down and slaughtering all of you.”
Flatly, Ty replied, “War’s over, Ess. It’s been over for a really long time now. Hatchets buried, handshakes given, water flowing under many bridges. All that shit.”
“Okay, so now Danu and you are buddies? Is that it?”
“Queen Danu has nothing to do with the Hunt. Not anymore.”
“She's the one who created it. You think she doesn’t know what’s going on with it at all times?”
“We don’t know that. You don’t know that. She seemed very eager to see the whole thing go away after the war ended. There’s no proof that she has had any connection to it ever since.”
Shieldmaiden looked away. “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t. Doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous for you having bonded to it. Doesn’t mean that there won’t be a target on your back going forward. Or on Mallory’s, either.”
“I didn’t feel like I had a choice. And, yeah, you’re right about involving Mallory. I really wish I could have kept her out of it. But I need her insight and support. If nothing else, just to keep me focused and thinking straight. A second set of eyes and ears. Plus, Iris trusts her. Mallory’s trustworthy. And though it kills me to say it, considering what we believe is coming, I’m prepared for her to become a casualty. Though I’ll always utilize any and all precautions to head that possibility off, including taking any hits aimed at her upon myself.”
“How can you take that chance? She’s not your tool. Not like me. She’s your friend. You can’t rebuild her if she’s killed.”
“That’s not fair. She won’t be going into the field. She won’t be on any missions. Hers is just a support role. Nothing more. But whatever the hells is going on, I feel strongly that it's time I started inserting myself into the middle of it. And this might be the best opportunity I get to do just that.”
Shieldmaiden started to pace about the room. “There is so little we know about what’s happening now. With the build up of eldritch energies around the continent. With more and more cracks appearing in the dimensional membrane every day. With the increasing number of abyssal, infernal, and paranormal-linked incidents. With the postponed Apocalypse. With Iris returning. To find answers, we can’t be rash. We shouldn’t take needless risks. We need more time. We need more data. Not more casualties.”
“We don’t have the luxury of time anymore, Ess. Our hand has been forced.”
“According to Rain.”
“Yeah, according to Rain.”
“You trust her?”
Ty thought for a moment. “Doesn’t matter. That can’t be a factor here. I can’t stand on the sidelines anymore. Nothing in our plan changes.”
Shieldmaiden stared at Ty for a long moment. “Asshole.” With a look of anger, she turned to walk away, brushed something from her eye, and winked out.
Into their pocket dimensions, Iris and Ty had loaded packs supplied with maps of places Iris had never seen or heard of: water canteens, MREs, mess kits, rain ponchos, flashlights, lighters, whistles, first aid kits, and knives. They’d also packed a tent, two sleeping bags, two hunting rifles, and several boxes of ammunition. For contingencies, when sorcery was not an option.
Looking concerned, Iris asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Ty answered, “I’m fine. Let’s just focus on the work ahead.”
Now, as the two hunched over maps of Brooklyn spread across the planning table, Iris saw Rigan approach, maskless, wearing a projection of one of Iris’s favorite outfit combos -- beloved shirt; most comfortable jeans; nostalgic, throwback sneakers.
“Hey, Rigan. Glad you could join us.” Pointing to Ty, she asked, “Can he see you?”
“He can’t. Sorry.”
“I don’t see or hear her. Does she need something?”
“I need to talk with you.”
“She needs to talk with me.”
Ty nodded. “I’ll leave you two the room then.”
“No, you should stay.”
“Actually, it’s better if he goes.”
“I should go. Bye, Eiree! Love you! Once you’re done, Iris, come and get me in the bar.”
Once the door had shut, Rigan said, “A sweeter man never walked the twin worlds. So, Iris...I won’t be coming with you two to Brooklyn. I mean I will. I go where you go, right? But I’ll be staying in the soulscape the whole time.”
“What? Why? What if we run into trouble, and we need you?”
“I’m hoping that Ty and you can handle it without my help.”
“Okay..."
“Iris, sister, you are finally starting to get comfortable with your power. I want to encourage this. You shouldn’t be afraid of it.”
“You know why I’m afraid of it. You’ve seen why. It’s very reasonable to be afraid of it. That’s why I’ve always asked Ash and you to take care of any situations where there could be violence.”
“I worry sometimes that...we’re holding you back.”
“Some parts of me need to be held back.”
“You’re so good with the souls of others. Why can’t you be as gracious with yourself? I know she can be hard to be around. She reminds me a lot of my sister Banba, incredibly temperamental. So I get it. Still, do you ever even try to talk to her?”
Iris snapped. “Why would I? She’s nearly destroyed my life and the lives of those I care about many times over. And she’s never appeared sorry for it. Not once. So I let her run free in the soulscape and encourage her to vent her aggressions on demons and dark spirits in the Overworld. That seems to sate her need for violence. But I can’t let her out into the material world. And she doesn’t feel like me. Ash and you are more a part of me, to me, than she’ll ever be.”
Iris stood and folded up the weird slipspace map. “I...I need to finish getting ready for my upcoming mission. We can talk more about this later.”
Rigan found herself back in the soulscape, their conversation over for now. She looked sad as she said to no one, “Have you ever considered, Iris, that we won’t always be here to help?”
“Jeez. Look at this place.”
It had been years, decades, since Iris had been in a subway station. She followed the sweep of her flashlight, looking for the familiar and seeing a lot of unfamiliar. Recognizable parts of the station remained: grimey tiled floors, cracked fluorescent light tubes, broken ticket-issuing machines, hulking metal turnstiles with their ticket eating-and-shitting scanners, and the tooth-grooved up-and-down metal escalators leading to and from the tracks. Giant advertisements festooned the walls like oversized movie posters. Above were familiar signs posting track numbers and electronic billboards for train times and destinations.
What was different was that nothing worked in the entire pitch-black station tomb. Right out of a horror game or movie set. The lights and machines and stairs had become dormant the minute the power’d been cut. Stale air, no longer conditioned or filtered, smelled moldy and rotten. Rusty water plinked, dripping from corroded pipes through ceiling cracks. Absent any cleaning people or golems to pick up the trash, ancient piles, some blown in, some dragged, hugged the walls, mounding up along the ground. Rats and roaches had free run, and it showed. Or, rather, smelled. And there was something else about the aroma of the air that Iris struggled to identify, a strange kind of piney, ozoney, eldritchy quality, maybe from old, undischarged spells that had gone a bit...spoiled?
Ads on the walls, the still-legible ones, with their palettes of bright reds, greens, and blues had degraded into drab tans, olives, and watery grays, promoted products and people and places that mostly no longer existed. Thinking about that gave Iris a chill.
After the Brooklyn incident, people had stopped going underground, for fear of being buried alive. Reports of partial collapses in stations all around the city had prompted the Transit Authority, in one of its last official acts, to shut down the trains for good. Not to mention that the buses had already been privatized, and ride share companies had killed all the taxis, why even bother having a Transit Authority? The angry sky had, of course, killed air travel and the malevolent, predatory sea had ended voyage by ship.
Ty’s light swept along the floor as they walked. “Be careful of glyphs drawn on the tiles. Some unstable people seem to like coming down to the abandoned stations and boobytrapping them with warding symbols. Like in the old days when soldiers, out of spite, would bury landmines along roadsides and bridges and in farmers’ fields.”
“If we walk a straight line towards those sets of stairs there...." Iris pointed to the left. “...We won’t encounter any glyphs.”
“You can tell without even looking?”
“I can smell them. Follow that path and we should be fine.”
“Okay, then. I gotta say. You are a great partner to have on a black ops mission.”
“Arawn used to say that a lot, too.”
Standing on the platform between the northbound and southbound tracks, Ty cast a spell that created a comfortable bubble of warm light, reminding Iris of candles and campfires. “This is it,” he said.
Iris looked around. “It is?”
“Yes, somewhere in here is the gate leading to the slipspace we need to get around the tunnel blockages between us and Brooklyn. At least Shieldmaiden seemed to think so.”
“Okay. I wasn’t doubting you. Or her.”
“You can’t smell it?”
“I’m smelling a lot of things right now, a lot that I wish I couldn’t. Can you be more specific about what I’m supposed to find?”
“Um, let’s see. I think it should smell something like the dimensional pocket that you keep your things in.”
Iris closed her eyes and sniffed her left hand. She then began to edit out all of the odors that didn’t match. After about a minute, she became aware of an...instability...near the tunnel opening on the southbound side of the station. “Over there.” She pointed to the approximate spot.
Ty began to chant in a language that Iris had never heard. The words were alien and guttural. As he spoke, lines glowing white gold began to etch the outline and intricate details of a medieval-styled latticed draw gate where a solid concrete wall had once been.
“Damn,” Iris exclaimed. “So that’s an opening to a slipspace.”
“That’s how you know that the gods hate you, you know. They keep granting you the things you want.”
Iris tisked. “Such a cynic, Ty. So, has this entrance always been there? I mean, as long as the station has been here?”
“It actually predates the station by several centuries.”
Iris frowned, trying to imagine. “Have you ever gone in before?”
“Not this particular gate. The nearest village to this spot, Broken Root, according to intel reports, has a thing about sorcerers. So please be on your guard and try not to channel any magic while we’re there. Also, time to get our weapons ready. Arming swords and pistols. It could get dangerous from here on.”
Ty chanted again, and the gate to the rift began to draw upwards. Iris looked around, tentative.
“What’s wrong, Iris? I know this situation can be a bit nerve-wracking, but..."
“Iris!” An urgent voice from deep inside her spoke. “Let me out. Now.”
Nostrils flaring, pupils dilating, time slowing to a crawl, Iris raced in front of Ty and mostly took the arrow that had been aimed at his heart. He’d not seen it coming. She’d managed to stop all but the last inch. The tip, with its barbed point both enchanted and poisoned, sank into her scapula, just grazing her left lung. She cried out as Ty caught her and teleported them both behind a ceiling support column. It was poor cover, but Ty spoke words of power and, with a great cracking sound, tiles exploding, the floor bulged upwards, creating a blind big enough for the two of them to crouch behind.
A torrent of water gushed through the now-open dimensional rift, and waves shaped like warriors wielding watery bows and spears filled the cavernous platform.
“Iris! Are you okay!”
“No, I’m not fucking okay! I’ve been shot! Rrrrrragh!” Iris gritted her teeth as the arrowhead dissolved into an acidic toxin, burning her wounded shoulder chemically and mystically.
Another scream echoed in her head at the same time. “LET! ME! OUT! I can help!”
“...No, dammit!”
“Iris, what’s going on? Talk to me!”
“Ty! Go! Kill! Whoever shot me!”
He looked at Iris, in obvious pain, and over at the lines of undine, watery fey elementals, still firing a barrage of arrow-shaped water bolts. A liquid barb struck the wall just to the left of Ty’s head. “Okay. I’m going to lay you down. Take this for the pain.” He slipped a tincture into her trembling hand and took a firing position behind his barricade. Ty chanted in his Otherworldly tongue, his eyes crackling with power. Dark clouds formed, and the air in the station popped with static build-up. With a blinding flash and a deafening crack, a huge, white bolt of lightning flew like a stinging, buzzing lance from Ty’s hand, piercing a long line of elementals, one after another after another. Those directly hit burst into huge gouts of water while those not in the line of the bolt sizzled from hundreds of arcing, fingerlike discharges. This wave’s squad of the elementals collapsed and spread across the floor.
Iris and Darling stared daggers at each other in the soulscape.
“Why are you being such a pain in the ass about this, Iris? You need my help. Your friend is going to be poisoned and drowned by those nasty water spirits if you don’t let me go help him.
“There’s no way I’m letting you out into the physical world, Darling. In case you had forgotten, battle and blood drive you fucking insane. Who knows what you’ll do if you lose your mind out there.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what you think anymore, anyway, Iris.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you just passed out, princess.” Darling laughed. “See you!”
“No, wait! Stop!”
Iris’s protests faded as Darling opened her eyes. It had been a long time since she’d last seen, smelt, heard, tasted, and felt things through real, physical senses. Intense shocks of stimulus, pleasurable and hurtful, exploded in her brain, causing her to roar like a monstrous beast.
Ty’s huge electrical storm in the confines of the station showered the platform with lightning bolts, striking down more and more of the endlessly appearing undine while Ty deflected their tidal slam and missile volleys with floating shield spells. His eyes flitted back and forth between Iris and the swarm of enemies before them. He was sweating and shaking, showing the overtaxing strain of holding too many spells at once. Teleporting blind out of this space into another pitch-black platform could be suicidal, but he was starting to wonder if they’d have no choice. Then he heard Darling’s roar. Startled, he flinched, and his floating eldritch shields began to wobble.
It was Iris and then it wasn’t. In the course of seconds, she’d gained a wolf’s head and, underneath her clothes, a coat of fur, alternating shades of dark and light browns and reds. Her mass remained unchanged, but her arms had lengthened, and she’d acquired a second pair of joints on the back of her legs several inches lower than her upper knees. Her eyes, pupils narrowed and lengthened, glowed like hot metal while her teeth and fingernails sharpened into formidable fangs and claws. Her new form and her huge wolfish, chilling smile astonished him.
Darling tried to tell him to provide cover fire, but her words slurred together into a canine yawling, issued from a mouth not designed to speak human words. Taking a deep breath, she dove into the raging elemental swell. Even in the water, she was a blur, cutting down any undine within her reach. To her, it was all very beautiful, like swimming through the clear blue ocean. Ty knew it must have been terrifying for her prey because the waters started receding before her.
A heavy blow slammed her into the ground. Another bone-jarring strike followed, stunning Darling before she could roll aside. Towering over her prone form stood a jinnee, a marid, of great height and bulk. He curled and bent under the station roof. His form seemed to swell and recede, rising and falling with each breath. Blue skinned, white haired, bloated and muscular, with piscine features, and beady black eyes, the malevolent marine spirit spewed a gout of cold salt water down on the prone werewolf, shocking her to her senses. As she scrambled away, he drove her backwards with a powerful, watery kick, and she thudded hard against the wall behind her. The marid’s gaze then fell on Ty, breathing heavily and bleeding from multiple wounds.
Darling felt the room spin and darken. But she could smell the pain and fatigue in Iris’s companion and sensed he was in trouble. If she’d let him die, she’d never be able to face Iris. She flinched as she bit into her arm and felt the familiar red, coppery sweet flow of blood trickle down her mouth. That was the problem, she told herself. Those damn things didn’t bleed anything but salt water, and her poor mouth had had enough of the horrible briny taste. She needed to fight something that bled. As a reward for kicking that walking tidal wave’s ass, maybe she’d run down a prey animal before going back to the soulscape, returning control to Iris.
With a running 20-foot leap, Darling landed squarely on the water giant’s back. She’d noted that the lesser undine had retreated once this monstrosity had entered the room. That would make it easier. Fewer worries about her exposed back.
Her claws rent deep into the marid, which felt akin to running one’s fingers and toes through thick jelly. She could feel its huge gelatinous fingers reaching around, desperately grabbing for her, but she didn’t care. She was fully committed to killing this thing now. It had become her whole world, and everything and everyone else was completely forgotten.
The marid’s icy-cold hands locked around her face and neck with crushing pressure, trying to drown her. Other hydropod arms extended from his torso and pummeled her body. But as good as he gave, she was sure she was giving better. The claws on her hands and feet and the teeth of her gnashing jaws dug deep tears in his arms and legs and torso. She’d have disemboweled him had he any organs that could be spilled out. She didn’t care if she survived this fight. She only cared that her nemesis should die. So what if her vision was fading? So what if she was numb past the point of feeling any pain. So what if her lungs had filled with water and she was suffocating?
If she lived, she’d have plenty of regrets come tomorrow. If not, fuck it. Now was the time for fighting and killing. What else was there? That was all there ever was.
Ty, greatly weakened from sea-derived poison and blood loss, shook as he tried to load an enchanted bullet into his hunting rifle. He cursed himself as he fumbled the round again, the copper casing skittering off the edge of the chamber. The giant marid was killing Iris, or this new version of her, and it would be his fault if she died. Mercifully, the bullet finally slid into the chamber, and he slammed the bolt forward. The marid, also looking very much on the ragged edge -- the wolfen Iris had inflicted hideous wounds upon him, and he was kept upright only by his great size and power -- turned with a furious, knowing look towards Ty and his rifle at the ready. He cast the lycanth’s limp form aside and roared.
“That’s right, you son-of-a-bitch.” Ty strained to speak his words. “It’s just...down...to you and me. All...your friends...are gone or dead. Mine seems to be...too.” He squared the rifle to his shoulder just as the elemental rushed forward like a giant crashing wave.
A rifle report told Ty that a gun had been fired, but it hadn’t been his. The marid, with a shocked, outraged expression, stopped mid-charge, waivered, and tumbled, his broken body spilling across the platform in a huge gush. Iris, reverted to her human form, lay still in the foaming wash.
Ty, in shock, lifted his eyes from Iris to the man, clearly a Tuathan from Annwyn (On Fin), curiously dressed as though he’d just stepped out of an old Western movie. In his hands, the man carried an enchanted, repeating rifle with a centerfire chamber and toggle-link action.
“I’m glad that me and my posse got here when we did,” the man said. Looking over with regret at Iris’s still body, he added, “Though I am deeply regretful that we didn’t get here sooner.” Ty now saw a score of heavily-armed cowboys standing behind his savior, arming swords sheathed in their scabbards, pistols in their holsters, and rifles at the ready, all Tuathan just like their leader.
[OUTRO SONG: "Saguaro" by Via Mardot]
The two poisoned water bolts he had taken, one in his left bicep and one in his right shoulder, had already melted away and burned fiercely in the holes they had left, but he didn’t care. He had to get to Iris. Unable to find his feet, he crawled over to where she lay.
“If there’s anything we can do to help, friend...” the leader said. “We’d been tracking those damn elementals along the Elkhorn River for several days, and they finally gave us the slip by jumping through that open gate leading to your world. I...I’m real sorry that they ambushed you and your companion.”
As he leaned down and brushed Iris’s wet hair from her face, Ty felt as though dread had frozen his heart. She was not breathing. Ty bent over her face and forced air from his mouth into hers. After several breaths, he began to compress her chest in a one-two-three rhythm. These actions he repeated over and over. The gathered Otherworld cowboys looked on but said nothing while he struggled to revive her. He had too little mana left for any revival spells, so this had to work. He swore at her as he pounded up and down over her heart. He poured desperate wishes into her still lungs with each breath he gave her.
A few of the onlooking cowboys had taken off their hats. The man who’d fired the final shot that brought down the marid said solemnly, “I...I think she’s gone.”
Ty, with tears running down his cheeks, glared at him, but sat back. It had likely been several minutes since Iris had taken a breath on her own, and her skin was icy cold to the touch. There was no pulse that he could feel. She was gone.
A gout of water bubbled up out of Iris’s still, blue lips as she gagged and spewed up two lungfuls of seawater. Sitting bolt upright, amidst the shock and amazement of those around her, she began to furiously cough, gasping for air. Bloodshot eyes, heavy lidded, struggled to focus on Ty. Iris fumbled for his hand and grasped it, squeezing it. With a weak voice, she said, “You’re...hurt,” before slumping into his arms.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” The tall cowboy walked over and crouched down near Ty, offering his hand. “I’m Edward. Edward Loper, from the Village of Broken Root, and these are my men. Come back with us, and we’ll give you the healing and rest you two clearly need.”
NEXT EPISODE: MIND TRICKS