The House of Grey- Volume 6 (5 page)

Despair was in the voices that rose up in response, and which multiplied by the second. The Midday Darkness was going to kill everything and everyone there.

Others attempted to speak words of comfort but were unable to, drowned out as a new round of noise assaulted them. This time, however, an odd pressure accompanied the sound; a pressure—a strange
spiritual
force that pulled at the very core of their being. Monson had felt this months ago the night he went to meet Baroty. It was not a feeling he would soon forget.

Still the pressure increased as the dark masses continued to fold over on themselves. Before long, the darkness had completely blacked out the sky, leaving an inky shadow in its wake. Once the darkness was thickly in place, still swirling, the noise and pressure vanished, and all was silent.

The sudden drop in pressure and noise stunned the crowd; few people moved. No one from H.U.M.A.N.E. or Baroty’s group seemed to know what to do. No one was thinking about the battle any longer; not even the gem-hearted rock soldiers, most of which were not even moving, let alone showing any outward signs of cognizance. It was as if their power switch had been accidently flipped. The sight was actually quite disturbing, though not as disturbing as the expression of everyone else in the room. Every single person, good or bad, combatant or civilian, just stared up at the black river in the sky, watching as it danced back and forth in a sort of sickening mockery of a sea tide.

“Well…that was unexpected, wasn’t it?” Artorius
pretended to make a check mark on a piece of paper. “That is definitely one for the diary.”

“You have a diary?” said Casey derisively. “Oh, that is so like you. Get ready, Grey—next you’re going to hear all about the benefits of
guy-liner
.”

“You’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you? I used it
once
when I was starring in a play and I’m branded forever.”

“Hey dude, I’m not bagging.” Casey attempted to stifle his laughter. “I say own it; own the guy-linerness.”

“Guys!” said Monson in exasperation. “Seriously? Are we seriously having this conversation?”  

Casey shrugged, which looked quite odd considering he was still lying on the ground. “I maintain that anytime is a good time to mock Arthur; it brings a little more joy to the world, I think.”

“Shut it Casey,” growled Artorius. “Or I will kill you before the Midday Darkness gets around to it.”

“Speaking of which,” Monson pointed upwards. “What’s it doing?”

The undulating waves of gloom had suddenly formed a violent whirlpool. It twisted faster and faster above the Coliseum. Before anyone had the chance to determine what the darkness was doing, every person was back on the ground, groaning from the pull of some invisible force. Like a vortex of wind, the twisting Darkness yanked at the very essence of all who remained under its swirling eye. Before long, visible strands of colored Kei started rushing upwards, flowing into the belly of the storm. Monson realized that the Darkness was sucking up the Kei of every person in the room, extracting the magical energy that made up all living beings, drawing it into its inky folds.

The different traces of Kei slowly fused like some drug-induced dream. Most Kei was a dark green, but there were a few other colors as well. Monson could tell that there was something significant about this different colors of Kei; there was a meaning behind the bright
dissonance
of color but like so many times before
, he
failed to spot the connection or begin to understand the importance of the events
unfolding around him
. The other colors continued to mix in with the green Kei, all of which reached the vortex of the dark
whirlpool
. Monson felt his own energy leaving him and watched as the vortex physically drained silver Kei from his body. It was painful in a curious sort of way, and when the vortex finally ceased its activities, the effects of were evident. Sallow, gaunt faces and frail bodies slowly lifted themselves off the ground, staggering as they did. Monson looked at the churning mass, and found himself mesmerized by the flow of the now-silent ocean of darkness.

Casey touched his arm, “So…about that whole re-grouping thing….”

Monson shook him off, feeling the strength return to his arms and legs. “I told you—I’m not running away. I have things to do.”

“Umm…I’m not telling you to run away, Grey!” Casey looked from side to side to see if any of the rock soldiers or commandos
were
readying an attack. “Really, it’s not running; it’s just a strategic retreat. Come on, even the bravest dudes on the planet retreat every once in a while.”

Monson put up a hand in protest. “The Spartans from
300
didn’t. Spartans don’t surrender; Spartans don’t retreat, or did you forget that little piece of history?”

Artorius cut in. “Yeah, and look how well that worked out for the Spartans. I’m pretty sure the Persian Immortals were laughing and quoting the Spartans before they filled them with arrows.”

“Yeah, but I doubt they were laughing when the other ten thousand Spartans supported by thirty thousand Greeks came a-knocking.”

“Are you saying that we should let the Midday Darkness fill us up with arrows in the hopes that forty thousand Coren University students will attack it?” asked Artorius.

Casey jumped at the opening. “Now that is just silly, Arthur. Just look at the Darkness.”

He pointed upwards. “Do you see any bows and arrows?”

Artorius
threw up his hands. “Being friends with you two is bad for my blood pressure.”

A loud crash followed by screams refocused the boys’ attention on the Darkness or, more specifically, the large black chunks falling from the sky. Two or three had already hit the ground.

“Move out of the way!” yelled Monson, who was back on his feet. “Get back! Get away from the—”

Monson stopped yelling once he realized it was too late. Pieces of Darkness toppled marble pillars and crushed sections of cherry wood floor, splitting the rock and wood with surprising devastation. More screaming ensued as black tarry-covered pods rained down on the inhabitants creating pits where
they
landed. Monson froze in place, not knowing what to do; Casey and Artorius
were at his side in an instant.

“Grey, we should bolt.” Artorius
tugged at his elbow. “Like now...before…before….”

Casey gulped, finishing Artorius’ sentence. “Before something bad happens.” 

Tangible fear touched them, touched all of them, as the Darkness, the chunks of living, changing blackness started to move. From within their craters, the tar pods split down the middle, resembling blooming flowers—ugly, horrible flowers. Large, muscled bodies emerged first as massive, black tar-covered wings folded back on
themselves
, giving a clear view of thick, hairy arms and the faces of beasts…of monsters. The heads appeared truly demonic, with large dark fangs, giant beetle-like eyes, and long, pointed ears.

“Gargoyles,” passed through Monson’s trembling lips. He realized the truth and depth of the word; these were huge, horror-inducing gargoyles.

The one nearest Monson flexed a clawed hand. Oddly, the thing looked confused, like it had been a long time since it had had the chance to feel its own extremities. This action, while seemingly passive and unthreatening, caused two commandos close to the beast to freak out. They both fired their weapons, sending several large fireballs hurtling through the air. The fireballs hit their mark, instantly spreading over the body of the beast,
which
howled in pain. But then the large, black, oozing wings started beating, kicking up a wind, and the flames covering the beast died, the scorch marks fading into the dark body. Two large eyes, seemingly vacant moments ago, now stared down at the two soldiers, who began to scream as the beast motioned towards them with large claws, which swept parallel to the ground and careened straight for the commandos. Monson closed his eyes as their screams turned to silence.

“They didn’t stand a chance,” Monson whispered, still unable to look.

Casey’s tone matched his own. “Do any of us?”

A roar from the gargoylesque beast commanded their attention as it stepped out of its crater. All around the Coliseum the others of its kind followed suit, roaring spitefully—a sound that curdled the blood and
infused raw fear
. As the final traces of the outcry dissipated, other sounds followed, these different from the catcalls of the black-bodied beasts. The response drummed with a steady bass, rumbling deep within the bones. Monson could not help but notice, as the booming bass stopped, that the beasts heard and heeded the message.

The nodding heads of the beasts dipped down one last time before they all turned—each and every one of the dozen or so creatures—to look directly at Monson Grey.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Monson let his jaw drop. “They couldn’t be…they just couldn’t be here for me?”

More roars echoed as the black, winged beasts all rushed towards him. Monson took an unsure step back, Casey and Artorius
in tow. Casey nudged him.

“Grey, in those delightful little memories of yours, you would not happen to have a suitable spell, would you?”
“To fend off twelve black, winged, clawed monsters made out of living darkness?” Monson attempted a grin. “Can’t say that I do.”

Artorius
raised his glove. “Then what good are you, Grey?”

Heavy pounding threw all three boys off balance for a second time. The gargoyle closest to them was walking with difficulty towards their group, taking large swipes at both the members of H.U.M.A.N.E. and the commandos as it moved. The other creatures followed, zeroing in on Monson.

They
are
after me!
thought Monson.
There’s no other explanation for it. Ugh, being the Hero sucks. When am I going to catch a break? Wasn’t there supposed to be an escape plan? Come
on
Brian, Mr. Gatt? Where are you on this one?

He shook his head.

OK. OK. Enough with the pity party! Think. Focus. If these things are after me, then maybe if I... then they would…all right–that’s what we do.

Monson, in a rash decision, turned and ran. Just as he predicted, the monster roared in anger. As he reached a full sprint, he was surprised to see Artorius
and Casey right next to him.

“Please…tell me…you have…a plan,” panted Artorius, his huge legs eating up the distance to the first set of double doors.

“Hey, I’m making this up as I go.” Monson reached the doors first, slamming into them and forcing them open. Each of them careened through the doors, continuing their dash down the hallway.

Casey yelled from somewhere behind him. “Grey, where are we going?”

“I already said it. I’m making this up as I go along.” Monson gestured over his shoulder, pointing back the way they came. “If the legends are correct, then those things are about to clean house on anything human, meaning every person here has a one-way ticket to Deadville.”

Casey almost tripped as they rounded a corner. “And what does that have to do with us running through the halls like illegal immigrants trying to avoid Border Patrol? If those things are going to turn everyone into a second Dinner of Delectable Divine Deliciousness—”

“I knew you loved the name.”

“OK, so it’s growing on me. Shut up, Arthur! If those things are going to eat everyone, shouldn’t we be back there taking a stand?”

The three boys took another turn, hitting the main hall, just a few seconds away from the front exit.

“I don’t know how effective a ‘stand’ would be against those things,” said Monson, breathing heavily. “I think there’s a better way.”

“What’s that?” called Artorius and Casey together.

“Live bait.”

The boys reached the outer doors and went right through them, coming to an abrupt stop at what they saw. It was evident that Monson’s assumption was correct – the beasts were reacting to him.

“Grey…,” came Casey’s voice with a mix of horror and amazement. “You know I find being your friend a fairly dangerous endeavor.”

Hundreds of smaller gargoyle creatures were scattered around the campus of Coren University, destroying everything in sight. Directly in front of them, a group of commandos, H.U.M.A.N.E., and even a few Coren University students was already fighting desperately with the creatures.

Monson and the others jumped right in, fighting with as much ferocity as they could. To avoid hitting any of the others, Casey and Artorius
opted for the swords on their backs while Monson again cast his “Daggers of Light” spell.

Artorius
was the first to make contact, swinging his claymore with rock-breaking force and cutting one of the gargoyles from shoulder to hip. He made to move on, but received a shock when the gargoyle, dripping in black ooze, roared and countered, striking with unbelievable speed and nearly taking off Artorius’
head with a sweep of its claws. Casey stepped in, jumping up like a kangaroo and landing a devastating spinning back kick to the beast’s jaw. The thing staggered and stumbled but regained its balance with the help of its oozing, black wings. But the beast recovered a little too late; Monson was already upon it.