Waylon's Crossing - 12. Chapter 12: Touring the Catacombs

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 12: Touring the Catacombs

The city's founders painstakingly carved out the catacombs when they built the city. Thirty years later when it burned down, they expanded those catacombs further and deeper than before. They also added canals to pull water from upstream into new wells and fountains, then to drain back into the river downstream of the city. Over time, the city spread out to stretch from the northernmost bend in the river to the southernmost. Underneath the canals were the catacombs; and under the catacombs were the sewers.

Bryce led Alan and Jacen into a crumbling tunnel as close to the cathedral as he could tolerate. He dropped his pack to the ground and backtracked to hide their trail. Aure was out there somewhere, trying to find the path he'd followed initially into the Demon Prince's lair. Bryce wasn't completely sure, because he hadn't seen or felt Aure in almost two days, but he gathered from what little had been said that the problem had something to do with the reluctance of the air down there to talk to the elemental. Meanwhile, Bryce kept Jacen and Alan circling the edge of consecrated ground, looking for physical clues.

If Bryce could pass into consecrated ground, then the demons could as well. That or they had to continue sneaking around until they spotted a patrol. So far, they'd encountered nothing and no one.

Well, there were the rats. Bryce shuddered. He hated rats. Then there was that strange-looking, glowing centipede the size of a house cat. Oh, and a couple of acid-spitting lizards. Those had been interesting, though he didn't appreciate the burns in his clothes and hair.

Alan staggered into the wall and slid down into an exhausted heap. Jacen gave him an odd look, but Alan didn't care. They'd been wandering down in the sewers for two days now. Everything stank. He couldn't smell anything but the filth. Even the food smelled awful. He hadn't felt Kynan in his dreams, either, and that worried Alan considerably. What was happening?

"I thought Smoke knew where he was going?" Alan groaned, accepting the wrapped travel bar tiredly. He made a face at the cold, tasteless food. While Alan could see in the dark, but the near-constant dimness had given him a headache well over a day ago. He was better off than Jacen, however. The healer was all but blind in the near pitch-black gloom. As there was nothing to burn, they hoarded the oil for their one small lamp in case of an emergency.

"The way has changed," Bryce explained, returning to stretch out his legs where he sat against the opposite wall. If they didn't find a way out of here soon, he was going to have to ask Alan if he could bite him. Bryce didn't fancy that at all. Werewolves tasted like shit.

"How can it change?" Alan whined. He knew he was whining, but couldn't sum up the energy to care. He had blisters on his feet and his whole body hurt from the unaccustomed exercise.

"Don't know," Bryce grunted. "Just rest, kid." They'd circled the cathedral a dozen or more times, because Bryce couldn't go down certain passages. They knew that the demons couldn't go that way, either, but Aure insisted they had. He just couldn't figure out how.

"Nothing from Kynan?" Bryce asked after a while.

Alan shook his head. "Not a word." He'd told the others that Kynan contacted him telepathically (they'd been just as skeptical as Alan's dad regarding the whole 'message' bit, so he'd had to reveal more than he'd wished).

Nearby, Jacen flopped onto his stomach to munch on the vegetarian version of the others' jerky: grains and berries pounded down into paste and shaped into bars, then wrapped with oil-coated paper and sealed with wax. He peeled free another bite, cheerfully assuring the others that they would soon get where they were going. Honestly, he had no idea; he couldn't see much in this pit, but he had faith. He twisted the ring on his finger, letting the warm metal bring him comfort.

Somewhere above in the city was the ring's owner, fretting over its loss. Soon, he knew, the man would be desperate enough to let loose the magic he had and call the ring back to him. Magic, in the city again. This was either the beginning of the world's healing, or a portent of something even more disastrous. Jacen hoped for the former, but he was optimistic by nature.

"You're quiet," said Bryce, looking toward the half-unicorn.

Jacen shrugged. "Not much to say. Smoke will find the --"

A sudden sound in the dark, the ping of metal on stone, brought all three instantly to their feet. Bryce reached for his knives. He moved in a silent crouch toward the main corridor, waving the others to stay put. Turning the blades up alongside his forearms so the glint of steel would not give away his position, he strained his senses to discern what came their way.

The clomp-clomp of feet marched with military precision. They weren't boots, but hooves, like centaurs or demons. The occasional ping meant that one of them had metal plates on the bottoms of his feet. Horseshoes, maybe. They made no effort to conceal their presence, which to Bryce revealed a woeful lack of judgment, because no secret could remain a secret forever. The demons should be guarding this passage as if they expected attack. Either they were trying to invite trouble, in which case Bryce was more than willing to oblige, or they were woefully overconfident in their ability to avoid detection. Again, Bryce would be happy to correct that error.

As they drew closer, Bryce made out five shapes. They were big demons, with swords longer than Bryce was tall slung over their backs. Two of them bore a bound body between them. From the shape of the boots and a flash of uniform, Bryce knew this had to be one of the watchmen sent down to explore the sewers and catacombs.

Bryce wiped some saliva from his mouth onto his shirtsleeve. He was so hungry even demons were looking good. He hoped they didn't kill that guy too fast. That and he hoped Aure was somewhere close by as well, watching. This was the break they'd been hoping for.

He followed after the demons as quickly as he could and still avoid detection. From the way his skin started to prickle, not unlike the acid-spit from the lizards, he knew they neared the Cathedral. The discomfort had to be worse for the demons, but Bryce heard only a few, low mutters. If he hadn't been watching so carefully, Bryce wasn't sure he'd have believed what he saw next.

One moment the demons were there; the next, gone. He crept closer, scanning the ground, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then he looked at the wall: also nothing. He ran his hand along the stone and found moss under his fingertips. Actually, he didn't have fingertips!

"Ah!" He jerked his hand back. Then laughed. "Shit. Idiot." He shook his head, carefully feeling around the edges of the hole. A mere crack on this side, there was an actual pathway in the stone, rough-edged and quite unlike the worked stone from the passage Bryce stood in.

As he leaned there, one hand exploring the inside of the foreign passageway, weight landed on his shoulder blades, pinning him to the wall. His gasp of surprise didn't even reach his ears, but that only made him smile. He didn't stop to ask unnecessary questions. It was enough to know that Aure was no longer angry with him. If the elemental judged they had time for a non-essential delay, then so be it. Bryce wasn't going to argue.

A moan rumbled its way out from deep inside his chest as hot, moist heat caressed him from the bottoms of his feet, up underneath his clothes, and to the tips of his ears. His hands sketched a brief escape attempt, testing his boundaries. Aure responded by throwing him up against the wall again.

There was more than the usual force behind their play and he knew a moment's concern, but then Aure had Bryce's pants loosened and Bryce forgot everything in the unexpected bout of pleasure. Another time, he might have protested, but there was something intoxicating about the elemental's uncharacteristic roughness.

After so many years together, sometimes even years at a time, Aure knew exactly how best to please him. Points of air gave a good impression of teeth along Bryce's neck, biting and pulling at concealing clothes to get to the skin beneath.

"Aure ...!" he whined, baring his fangs. Phantom hands danced over his body and he wished he'd known this kind of touch while he still had a pulse.

Something close enough to lips to make the differences inconsequential covered Bryce's mouth in a bruising kiss. Minuscule, perfect replicas of Aure invaded Bryce's mouth, kissing and licking, nipping and sucking, and his eyes rolled back in his head, as close to fainting as he was to coming.

"You're mine!" whispered Aure in Bryce's ear.

I ... sur -- okay, he thought, because he couldn't speak for gasping. He didn't really need to breathe, but his body wasn't listening to reason much just then.

Only, Aure pulled back, voice uncertain. "Bryce?" he said. "I want ...."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he panted. "Whatever, oh, fu --" was all Bryce got out before Aure claimed his mouth again. Warmth and pressure enveloped his cock and he would have screamed with the suddenness of his release, but no sound escaped their locked lips.

He hung there afterward, mouth hanging open, eyes closed, cheek against the warmed stone. His mind would not come to grips with what they'd just done.

"Um ... Uh, A-Aure?"

"Are you hurt?"

Gentle caresses at Bryce's face. The elemental sounded ... contrite? Contrite and Aure just did not fit together.

"N-No," Bryce replied. He licked his lips. "I am, uh, a little, uh, confused, though."

One thing with Aure, there was never any clean-up to do, no ending up hot and sticky. The elemental licked all moisture away as easily as he kissed Bryce's brow. He didn't care, usually, for being treated like a doll, but when Aure cradled him close, Bryce let him; it seemed like something the elemental needed just then.

"I would rather you were not here," Aure confided as they started back.

Bryce glanced over at him, drifting slowly by his side. Was it just him or did the elemental's appearance look worried?

He said, "We've walked into danger countless times." This time, at least, they knew what dangers lay ahead.

Aure stopped. "Bryce," he said, catching the vampire and pulling him close, surrounding him in warmth. "You are precious to me."

"I love you, too." He patted one of the hands, squirming to get away. "Goof. C'mon, Alan is like to have an attack of conscience, I've been gone so long."

"Bryce?"

"Yeah?" The elemental gave such a human-like sigh that Bryce glanced back over at him, surprise warring with concern. He stopped this time. "Aure, what's wrong? Is it that other elemental?" That one of Aure's people should go rogue did not surprise Bryce. He'd met enough elementals to recognize them as every bit as independent and varied as any other race. They weren't all good or all evil, but had many variations of each.

"This isn't a coincidence, Bryce." The city had brought them all together. There was no question of his own summons, and Aure could see the Ancients' working in the others, but not for Bryce. Nothing was ever certain when the old powers were involved, and Bryce was right, they'd been in more dangerous positions before, but --

"This is different. I don't want you here." He grabbed the vampire and kissed him, stopping any words or coherent thought.

"Aure, man," said Bryce. "I spent decades as a 'guest' in the Dark World. I know what they're capable of. I'll be all right." He grinned. "The worst they can do is kill me, right?"

"That's not funny, Bryce." He crushed the man to him in an all-encompassing embrace. Pausing a second, Aure chose to use the name that would without doubt get the vampire’s attention: "Death, please, just listen to me. I beg you. Go back?"

"No way in hell!" He held up his hand, pointing a finger in the vicinity of Aure's face. "Aht! Not another word. I don't know why you're going all super-protective all of a sudden, but it ain't gonna happen. You can't do this by yourself. Concentrate on finding the Hunter before that elemental finds you, and I'll handle the rest. Okay? We've been through worse before. Now, let go of me already. I'm not a teddy bear."

"Bryce," Aure protested.

"You didn't let me face that pit of vampires alone," he replied gently, letting their cheeks rest companionably together. "I'm not letting you do this alone, either."

Aure held him a moment longer and then gave up. Bryce had always been stubborn; it was at least half the reason he was still alive, and his stubbornness was oddly reassuring.

*          *          *

Waking again abruptly, uncertain of how much time had passed, Kynan rubbed his head. He'd thought ... he'd thought that he'd heard Alan calling, but ... Kynan didn't dream. When he slept, he slept. Dreams were the norm of other people. He had the dreamscape. He rubbed his eyes and tried to settle down again, but he still felt uneasy. After a moment, he pulled the dreamscape to him once more.

//.. Enter Dreamscape..\\

The shadow city itself seemed uneasy when Kynan got there. He sniffed the air cautiously. The streets seemed darker somehow, sinister rather than neutral. The trees were actually rustling as if with wind.

"Kynan! Kynan, where are you?"

He started. Alan? How did he get to the dreamscape? All other concerns faded to insignificance in an instant. Breaking into a run, Kynan charged after the source of that trace. Before he'd gone too far, he paused, shivering. He pressed on a little more cautiously, uneasy in the sudden cold and dark. The closer he came to Alan, to the park in the center of the city, to the Cathedral, the darker and colder the city became. The trees shook, window shutters slamming in the sudden wind. And somewhere, out there, he could hear Alan's paws on the grass and pounding on the cobbled streets, hear his harsh breathing and his voice, calling.

Oh Alan, Alan! Kynan thought dismally. Why are you here? How are you here? You shouldn't have to see this. You should have more pleasant dreams.

Without stopping to consider the personal cost, Kynan closed his eyes to better concentrate, picturing the other park in his mind, the one from Alan's dream, with sunshine and laughter and color. He held that dream in his mind and forced the design down over this nightmare, shifting Alan to the new, happier locale. He opened his eyes to warm sunlight on his skin, hearing the ducks and the water lapping against the lakeshore. In moments, the back-of-the-mind uneasiness of the nightmare faded into the gentleness of this dream. He changed back into himself and moved into the shade of one of the old trees, flopping down on his stomach, watching, and waiting.

He didn't wait long. An edge of the dream shimmered and suddenly Alan was there, splashing into the lake and chasing the ducks. Kynan grinned, chin in hands, propped up on his elbows. Alan yipped, for he'd told Kynan years ago in all seriousness that wolves were far too dignified to bark, and snatched at the feathered creatures that were always just out of reach. Kynan laughed at one particularly daring drake that swam at Alan and smacked the wolf on the nose with a wing, quacking its displeasure. That, apparently, was enough for the wolf.

Alan climbed out on the bank and shook himself, fluffing up his fur. In the perfection of dreams, he was no longer wet. He did look, however, extremely satisfied with himself, tongue lolling out, long legs prancing rather than just walking up the slight incline towards Kynan.

For some reason, Alan almost always dreamed himself in wolf form, which Kynan found intriguing. Kynan wasn't exactly sure why; he only rarely showed himself to Alan, and had never felt comfortable asking. Most often, he took a form already present in the dream, or faded into nothing, invisible to Alan's eyes, to just watch. He didn't want Alan to know he was there this time, either, so he changed and became someone different.

Alan settled near him, plopping down into the grass, sides heaving. A brush came to Kynan's hands and he ran the soft bristles over Alan's gorgeous black fur, nose to tail, over and over again in long strokes. He smoothed the fur from Alan's face, ruffled his ears playfully, and scratched his belly when he rolled over onto his back, feet inelegantly waving at the sky. Kynan laughed then, again, at that silly expression, and Alan's wolf-face laughed back at him before finishing the roll so that Kynan could brush the other side.

Setting the brush aside, Kynan ran his hands through Alan's soft fur, marveling, as he always did, in its composition, the thick, silky down of the undercoat and the longer, stiffer guard hairs of the overcoat. As he patted and smoothed and played with the fur, he felt Alan's mind brush against the dreamscape and watched, interested to see how the dream would change.

At first, nothing seemed different. Then he noticed that the sun seemed to be lower on the horizon, starting to go down behind the tall spires of the cathedral. Second, the laughter of the children faded away and the park gradually was all but deserted. Then he realized that his hands were his own again. He paused in tickling the longer hairs between Alan's toes, to stare at himself -- at himself! -- in his customary jeans and t-shirt, lounging beside Alan on the grass. The sun continued to set.

Oh, no, he thought to himself. This is not wise, not wise at all! But he didn't want to leave. Being here was ... soothing, peaceful, even. Comfortable. If he left, he'd be back to stone and dirt and captivity. No, no, he most certainly didn't want to go back.

The dream-night stayed balmy and warm and the stars came out while Kynan finger-combed Alan's thick fur. The wolf had his head on his front paws now, watching him intently, and Kynan tweaked his whiskers playfully, lying on his side, head on one arm. Crickets chirruped nearby and the frogs came out as the night darkened. Above, the stars shone brightly. His feet, he realized, were rather cold. He looked down, noticing first that his shackles were gone. He reached down and felt the ankle, to assure himself that it really was gone. Lying back down, he smiled, a warm bubble of happiness filling his chest. To be free, even if it was only a dream ... what a gift.

Beside him, Alan shifted position and Kynan turned his head slightly to watch him. The air shimmered and suddenly where he sat was a young man Kynan almost didn't recognize. His brown eyes met Kynan's and the demon tensed. This version of Alan was not what he remembered, a boy with feet and hands he hadn't yet grown into, still gangly with youth. This was a young man at ease with himself, his long, shoulder-length black hair pleasingly mussed, his hands callused, his shoulders well defined from all their hard work, and eyes deep enough to drown in. Alan's words came back to Kynan and he reluctantly ceded the point: Alan had grown up. Had it been so long?

Alan regarded Kynan silently for a while, and then scooted over to lean against his hip, studying his face silently. This suddenly did not seem like a good idea. His mind cried out, Danger! Danger! And Kynan started to shift away, to leave this dream, but Alan leaned forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Kynan's skin quivered and he sucked in a quick, startled breath, his eyes flicking to his shoulder before being drawn again to Alan's face. Kynan's heart raced, a thousand and more thoughts running helter-skelter inside his head, his mouth suddenly dry, unable to speak.

"Wait," Alan said, holding him still with one word. He wanted to thank him, because he knew this was a dream, and a far better one than the horrors of the day had produced. Everything was blood and pain and too narrow, twisting tunnels. Next time Bryce told him not to look at something, he'd take the advice. He never wanted to see a vampire feed ever, ever again, not anyone, especially not a dead guy -- and wasn't that part just ... nasty? At least werewolves had standards!

Some rescue. Jacen wouldn't go in. Flat-out refused. Alan wished he'd done the same, but the smell of Kynan's blood had been so strong. He'd been scared to death he'd find the demon inside, but that's not what they'd found. They'd found some sort of terrible, anti-fairy tale kind of horror story that gets told around the campfire in the middle of the night. The kind of story that haunts your dreams forever ... and Kynan had been there. Stuck in that hell, for who knew how long. He looked okay now....

"Kynan, I --"

The familiar, urgent ache once more gnawed on his insides, lusting after the delectable morsel only inches away, vulnerable and unaware of his danger. Demand warred with desire warred with -- what was holding him back, exactly? Impulsively, Kynan reached toward Alan, brushing a smooth cheek with his fingers.

His thumb ran down that cheek, grazing the corner of his mouth. Alan's eyes fluttered closed. He shivered, leaning into the touch. Kynan licked his lips and shifted, sitting up. His other hand went up to Alan's face, his fingers running through that thick mane to the back of his head. He moved, conscious of Alan's rapid breathing, of the way his mouth fell open slightly, and how he relaxed wholeheartedly into his hands.

Their lips met, briefly, gently, a closed-mouth and slightly awkward kiss. Still, Alan made a strange, soft sound in the back of his throat that Kynan dimly recognized on a deep, primal level. The instant seemed frozen as a jolt of awareness, of need, arched straight from his lips to his groin and back again, too fast to do more than stun Kynan with the strength of his desire. His eyes went wide in shock. What am I doing?

With an agonized yell, Kynan shoved Alan away, rolled to his feet, and ran.