Wolves of the Tesseract Collection by Christopher D Schmitz

Author:Christopher D Schmitz [Schmitz, Christopher D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TreeShaker Bools
Published: 2018-12-28T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

With a flash of eldritch power, Caivev and Jarkara materialized at the portal site deep in the Central American jungle. The ozone sizzle in the air dissipated quickly and yielded to the humid, heavy air laced with the odor of thick vegetation.

She put up her hands and turned a slow circle when she heard the distinct sounds of cocking guns all around The Crag. “It’s me, you idiots.”

Jarkara, plain and ordinary as any vyrm could be, did likewise and faded towards the back of the confrontation.

The vyrm guards she’d set to watch the location lowered their weapons and slinked towards her from behind the mounds of carved ceremonial bones the natives had piled nearby for generations. They didn’t even bother with human disguises and they let their scales show. Nobody was supposed to be here except the forces of the Black, the fictional General Nyagittari had seen to that.

“They reported that you were taken by the tarkhūn,” one stated as he eyed her up and down.

“The new tribal chiefs are already arguing over who will lead following your capture.”

Caivev glared at them both. “The rumors are obviously greatly exaggerated.”

“How do we know you’re not a shade?” One guard asked astutely, readjusting his grip on the weapon.

“Ashes of Roanoke,” Caivev gave him the passphrase to prove her identity.

The other guard raised his gun. “They could’ve had a lich siphon that out of her mind!”

Both Caivev and the other guard glowered at the zealous sentry. “I’ve had psychic training,” she spat. “It would take more than a mere lich to break into my mind and pull out anything useful.”

He lowered the weapon sheepishly.

“Keys,” she demanded. A few moments later she bounced through the jungle trails in the old jeep, traveling the handful of klicks between the portal and the Lost Temple.

She found her generals in complete disarray. The man and his dog sat bored against the wall, flipping his hands back and forth. Caivev nodded to the imposter who she knew to be Akko Soggathoth.

The demigod looked slightly comical wearing an incredibly thick pair of oven mitts; he returned the greeting. He looked much the same as before, but he held a small hierophanticus which looked far eastern in origin and carved of the foreign darquematter in the shape of an idol. His dog rested next to him.

Caivev’s forces stopped mid-stride when they saw her enter. Idrakka tipped his head ever so slightly in greeting to Jarkara who didn’t dare return a nod.

She pointed at her supernatural partner who stood in response, curling his lip in a delighted sneer.

“What’s going on?” the beefy Skrom asked.

“It’s time to show them what we’re onto,” Caivev said. “Enough games. Let’s show the Black who you really are.”

Akko Soggathoth nodded. A split second later his form melted into the decaying half-goat, half-man form he truly was.

“Is that the hierophanticus you sought to awaken your first brother?”

Soggathoth nodded. “It is the key that will open to Akko Nuggezeth.”

Idrakka, Skrom, Charobv, and Kreephast stood in silence. They

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