The Oneiro Rangers: First Night (5 page)

ACT 2

The Wrong Side of the Glass

Chapter 6

It lived in darkness, in the long forgotten cave that was only
known as Waxwood Hollow.

Jagged stalagmites and stalactites covered the cave’s entrance
like a mouth full of sharp teeth, fending off anything that dared to approach.
An area of rotted trees had slowly melted in a perfect circle around its
secluded lair, a strange presence killing them slowly from the roots. The
weakness of the wood bent the branches of the trees into one another, shaping
them into an intentional barrier — to hide the entrance in an entangled mess of
decay. And if that didn’t do, inside was more of a maze than an enclosing
tunnel, the rocky walls looking the same all over. Endless caverns split into
two or more, going in every direction, mostly leading to the unnoticeable hole
hanging over the entrance, and returning any intruder back to the beginning.

Reptilian-scaled boots clicked against the stone ground, spurs
chiming along. Nyxus knew the exact trail, never getting lost. Each torch he
passed by instantly roared into a blinding blue flame, embers dripping under
their wall-hooks. For Nyxus, it didn’t take long until the tunnel turned into a
massive dome of an underground area — something that could never be known
unless someone could see in the endless dark that filled it. Taking a torch
from the wall for himself, he approached its throne; a bed of broken stone that
not even a corpse would find comfort on.

Nyxus kept his head down, the beaten brim of his cowboy hat hiding
his face. “Everything is set, Darkilov. Your assumption was right in the heart,
it was. None of their defenses could sense I was there. Not the offices, not
the departments, and not even the very Oneiro Academy. They wouldn’t know what
hit ‘em even if they wanted to.”

The outline of Darkilov’s head was barely visible in what little
light there was, as rough and ridged as the pile of stones it lay upon. Rusted
metal skin scrapped as it talked, the ends of its mouth far back by its neck
like a living bear trap. “Asteria’s experiment is complete.”

Nyxus made a gravelly chuckle. “You sure it’s worth making for six
years?”

Darkilov’s slim forked-tongue entering the blue light, the tips
coated in hooked thorns. Darkilov could smell the subtle hint of doubt coming
from Nyxus. “The
entire
Academy must be affected,” it answered in a
guttural hiss, “they must
all
be taken. Retrieve the elixir! Now is the
time, commence the attack! Rid our
new
world of those Oneiro filth!”

Nyxus shot his head up, his lip-less grin spreading wider than
usual. “Will do.”

Further into the rock-made dome, a small well lit alcove hid
behind a beaded curtain; an extended mass of rock that jutted out like a hand
over one’s eyes, finger-like stalagmites and all. Inside, a fire pit cooked up
a cauldron full of a swirling and bubbling liquid, the fire lighting up the
center of the room. Silver slugs with glowing antennas slithered around the
rows of carved in recesses which held numerous herbs and powders — all bundled,
bottled, and labeled. A long-fingered hand crawled like a spider along one of
the rows, searching for the right thing to add for the brew. Once Asteria found
a jar containing dried crow tongues, she twisted it open and sprinkled them in
the brew.

Nyxus barged in while she hummed joyfully and stirred the pot with
a bronze ladle. “Oh, back so soon?” Asteria asked.

He stayed by the curtain, ready to leave right away. “Hurry it up
and hand me the elixir. The sooner I go, the sooner it’ll be out and done
with.”

Asteria huffed in good humor, returning the jar to its place, next
to the bowl of dried snake livers and a box of laundry detergent. “Not even a
‘how do you do’? Don’t tell me you’re having a bad day
already
.”

Nyxus took a step forward, his fist balled up in case she was
willing to give him any more lip. “It didn’t get bad until I came back here. At
least out there I didn’t have to put up with that
rust bucket’s
orders
and
your
disgusting cheery mood.”

Asteria instantly clasped a hand over his mouth, wrapping her
fingers all the way around his head and to her palm, her purple eyes wide in
fright. Spiderlings crawled over Nyxus’ face, coming out of the slits in her
slightly exposed arm. “Don’t speak about the lord in such spite! The lord will
hear you and remember last time what happened. Taking your eye was a warning; I
don’t want to even think about what the lord would do to teach you a lesson.”

One of Asteria’s spiderlings playfully tried to lift up Nyxus’ eye
patch, too weak and tiny to push it up, making little high-pitched grunts as it
did. A quick shove sent Asteria doubling back to the wall of ingredients, her
spiderlings dangling on safety webs attached to inside of her arm slits —
hanging in the air like puppets. All of them crawled back inside the safety of
Asteria, one of them squealing angrily at Nyxus before it sewed the hole back
up, using its webbing as a thread. Asteria rubbed her skin before letting her
long black sleeve cover back over it.

“Don’t get fussy in there, Burgundy,” she said to the one that
continued to let out muffled squeals. “No damage was done.”

“Just give me the elixir already,” Nyxus ordered in a stern and
quiet tone. “
Now
.”

“All right, all right.” She started rummaging through her bottles,
the glass clattering loudly. “Don’t get your tendons in a twist. Here it —
no... that’s not it. Oh here — no, no, that’s not it either. I swear I put it
here somewhere.”

Nyxus crossed his arms, tipping his head down for his hat to cover
his face. “If you lost it, I swear —”

Asteria picked through the potions faster. “No, no, no. I’m
certain it’s here somewhere. There’s no way I’m letting six years of work go to
waste like that.” She snapped her fingers, turning around quickly. “Now I
remember! Migmog has it.” She walked by Nyxus over to the rocky opening, the
light and fluttery ends of her black and purple dress floating like it weighed
nothing. “Migmog, come here sweetie,” she called out to the darkness.

It didn’t take long for a floppy-eared Mara to hop its way into
the room, stitches and exposed bones spotted all over its decayed grey skin.
The lanky little creature bounced up onto a flat slab of stone, its rabbit-like
feet knocking over some mortars and pestles; the finely grounded powder inside them
wafting into the air. Now at eye-level, it got Asteria’s attention with a
hoarse call that was more of a dry grumble than a bark. From its pencil-thin
neck dangled the elixir which was made into a necklace for safekeeping. Doing a
curt bow, it took off the necklace and presented it to her, baring its sharp
yellow teeth in a big grin.

Asteria took it, closing her eyes happily and petting its head.
“Aww, thank you, Migmog.”

Nyxus slapped himself in the face and covered his eye with his
hand, groaning at the sight of Asteria and the Mara. “Ah, criminy. Don’t tell
me you started naming those things.”

Asteria continued to pet the Mara’s head, its happy panting
sounding like someone being strangled until their last painful breath. “Why
don’t you want me to name them? They’re like pets if you think about it.”

Before Asteria even knew what happened, Nyxus pulled her hand out
of the way and slammed his other fist down onto the Mara. In a burst of blue
flames, the little thing was reduced to a smear of shimmering embers, mixed
with the powder it had previously knocked over. Nyxus turned his face towards
her. Asteria’s eyes were trapped in a state of shock, afraid he was willing to
do the same to her. Prying her fingers off of the elixir, he simply took the
tiny vial from her fear-frozen grip.

“That’s why...” Shoving Asteria’s hand down to her side, he left
with a quick flutter of his duster’s tail.

Once he was gone, Asteria gathered Migmog’s embers, tossing the
handful towards Nyxus’ direction. “Meanie!”

The torches to the lair ignited again and were soon to go out as
Nyxus made his hasteful leave. Mara crawled down the wall and bounced about to
follow him, ready to help out in his mission. He noticed them and chose to
ignore their presence. They weren’t his to own, best that it stayed that way.
But there was one thing he shouldn’t ignore, and it was best that he obeyed its
every demand.

“Nyxus,” Darkilov screeched, loud enough to echo into the caverns.
Nyxus stopped, only tilting his head to show he was listening. “My Mara will be
watching you.
Don’t
fail me.”

Nyxus didn’t say a word, resuming his walk. The chime of his spurs
lowered as he got farther and farther away. Hundreds of creatures in the cave
tailed him like a continuous and endless shadow. Crawling down the cave walls,
more of them appeared to clutter and clog up the lone way out of there.
Darkilov was left to reside on his throne of stone, accompanied only by its
raspy breathing and the silent darkness.

.  .  .

“Nightterrors are not to be taken lightly,” Ronda taught to the
class, “but, luckily there’s not too many of them running around.” Flipping
through the textbook, she found a passage with bold print, hoping it was
noteworthy for the ones taking notes. “So far, they are known to be
rulers
of regions
within Skepsi, having some kind of higher power than the usual
run-of-the-mill Nightmare. But, since it’s downright impossible to travel to
Skepsi, it’s pretty hard to find out more on such a subject, now isn’t it.”

She chuckled in an attempt to release the tension gathering from
within. A few students quickly scribbled a short sentence and looked back up,
ready for more information. Rhonda fluttered her book pages back and forth,
trying to find more to offer. Even with a teacher’s edition–complete with extra
information–it still wasn’t enough to let her know what they haven’t already
been told the previous years. Seeing that the fourth year class was just
waiting and watching, she stood up to buy more time.

“Any questions so far?”

One of the female students raised her hand right away. “Why do
Nightterrors appear in our world if they already rule their own region? What’s
so important about our world that they don’t have?”

Before Rhonda could answer, a boy in the back swiftly interrupted.
“Maybe they just want to watch TV after a long day of bossing Nightmares
around.”

Rhonda let the class laugh it up before talking. “... Could be
that. But the reason Nightterrors come to our world is... not by random, I know
that. It’s... uhh... it’s...” The bell rang, giving her the perfect excuse that
she so desperately needed. “— It’s something that will be covered next class.”
She continued to talk while all of them put their things away and headed out
the door. “Any other questions you may have, please feel free to ask Mr. Simmons
when you see him. I won’t be here tomorrow.”

She spoke to herself in secret while the line of teenagers
dissipated into the hall. “I sure do hope I won’t...”

As the last class of the day emptied out, Clint strolled by,
cutting his stride short when he glanced into the room. “There you are,” he
said in surprise. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Say, if you’re here,
then where’s Simmons?”

Rhonda collected her books and papers, shoving them into her
satchel without much care. “That’s what I’d like to know. That lazy oaf ran out
on his last class, and on the first day to boot. Of all the people, they call
me
to fill in. Me! I never even took AP Skepsi History, let alone know how to
teach it.”

Clint helped her pack up the last of her things, putting the
satchel’s strap on her shoulder for her. “I assume it went bad?”

“An utter train wreck,” she groaned, squishing her face up to
release some stress. “I bet those kids left with less in their head than when
they walked in.” Gleefully leaving the desk, she found herself in Clint’s arms,
finding ease of mind in his strong and tender embrace. She couldn’t resist
staring into his soft green eyes and especially wouldn’t want to resist. “...
At least I have tonight to look up to.”

Clint made a quick chuckle before his face went back to being
serious. “Listen, about tonight...”

Rhonda’s seducing eyes suddenly turned dark. Pushing herself away,
she looked like she was about to explode. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on
canceling out already—”

“No, of course not,” Clint defended without skipping a beat.

“What is it then, huh? What, did something come up suddenly like
all those times before?” She leaned back on the desk, her anger weighing
heavily in her head. “This is too much, Clint. A girl can only take so much
before she gives up.”

Clint held her shoulders, struggling a bit as she tried to shrug
him away. “Listen to me. Okay? Here me out. I want to go. You have no idea how
badly I want to go out with you.” He patted her arms proudly. “Rhonda: Beauty
Queen of the Academy.”

“Ha-ha. You’re such a charmer,” she added sarcastically, sticking
her tongue out.

“I’m being honest here. Trust me, I’d give my right arm this very
second if I had to, just to take you out for a night. You’re all a guy could
ask for...” he trailed off and so did his eyes.