11. Kalistratos

Istop the current of time and walk out to where the two guards are locked in step. I recognize one of them—he's the same man who captured me when I was first transported to this world. My powers, though still dulled, feel stronger than they did before. It's because of that delicious nectar Tyler gave me. Ever since drinking it, I feel sharper and faster. My mind is racing alongside my heart. I take a moment to step around them and examine their gear. All of it is strange and unknown to me—except for one thing: the wrist shackles they keep at the back of their belt. I remove a shackle from its pouch, fasten one man's ankle to the other's, then take the keys and hurtle them into the nearby fountain.

I smile to myself, then hurry back to Tyler.

Oh—the foan.

There's a woman sitting at a nearby table with a plate of some unknown food, and she has one of the magic stones in her hand. On its glowing polished surface is the perfectly replicated visage of the dish in front of her. I wave my hand in front of the foan and give myself a shock when I see my hand captured on its surface. A shiver goes down my spine. I don't want my soul to be sucked away into this dark box.

I grab a paper cloth from the table and toss it over the foan, then pluck it from the woman's hands and return to Tyler.

Time returns to normal.

"Take it," I say, holding the foan out to Tyler.

I hear the two men shouting.

"What did you do?" Tyler asks, and he goes to look.

The two guards are flat on their stomachs. One tries to get up, then falls as his ankle twists against the other's. A group of people begins to gather around them, and another shiver goes down my spine as every one of them draws a glowing foan from their clothes, holding them silently in front of them as the guards stumble around, cursing and shouting for help.

"Like damn soul reavers," I mutter.

Tyler grabs my hand and pulls me through the door at the back of the dark hallway.

"Nice job. That should buy us some time." He taps at the foan and presses it against his ear. "Come on, pick up. Pick up, you—Jeff! Jeff, it's me. We're in some shit right now and we really could use your help. You know that empty lot across the train tracks behind the Plaza Mall? Yeah, past the business park. We're going to try to be there in ten minutes, alright? Can you get us?" A pause. "Thank you. Don't call this number back, alright? It's a stolen phone."

I can hear Jeff's muffled voice floating out from the foan as if he's been trapped inside of it.

"Stolen!" Tyler says back. "Hurry, or you'll be seeing me on the nightly news." He sets the foan on the ground. "Alright, let's go."

"Do you not need it?"

He shakes his head. "Not gonna risk it. They might be able to track it. C'mon."

I follow him down the passageway and through another door. We're outside again, this time facing the road. Tyler grabs my arm and pulls me behind a bush.

"Jesus Christ," he says. "This is serious."

There's a line of the same black and white kah beasts that were there when I was first captured, all waiting along the road.

"Are they all here looking for us?" I ask.

We watch as the guards leave the kah beasts and rush into the market, then Tyler and I leave our hiding spot and sprint across the street and pass between two buildings, where there is a stable of several sleeping kahs gleaming in the sunlight. We split through them and ascend a small dirt slope to a fence that appears to be made from a line of sarissa pikes bound together by a long iron rod.

"We need to get over this," he says.

I point to the nearby tree growing against the fence. Tyler runs to it and effortlessly pulls himself up onto the lowest branch and makes it to the other side of the fence. I follow his lead, tucking into a roll as I hit the dirt. These new garments are surprisingly easy to move in, despite how constrictive they are.

A shrill wail carries through the air from some distance—the cry of one of those guard's kah beasts. Tyler ducks instinctively and runs with his head down. I do the same. I don't understand how the eyes and ears of these men work—Tyler says they can hear and see us from great distances. They are equipped with powerful magic, but their limitations and abilities are unclear to me. How could they possibly know where we are, unless they've made spies of the birds and creatures around us?

Then I remember the automaton insect I'd killed in the marketplace. If that had been a child's plaything, then certainly the tools of grown men were capable of incredible power.

We're now at the lip of a great stone aqueduct empty of water except for a narrow green stream trickling down the center of the channel. Tyler looks up into the sky. I hear it too—a low thudding, like a distant rapid drumbeat.

"We need to hide now," he says. "That bridge!"

The bridge is about one stadion further down the channel, and the encroaching thudding is growing closer by the second. There's only one choice. I grab Tyler's hand and stop the flow of time, and we scramble down the embankment and sprint through the channel, weaving around the piles of refuse that sit like deposits from a flash flood. The boost of stamina from the god nectar has all but vanished, and every step I take feels like my feet are sinking into thicker and deeper mud. Tyler is ahead of me, pulling me by the hand. I'm gasping for breath by the time we reach the bridge, and I drop to one knee as time wrenches itself from my grasp.

"I'm sorry," I breathe. "It's so much heavier here."

Tyler puts his arm around me and guides me further into the smelly dark underbelly of the bridge. The dull thudding is now like pulsing thunder, moving directly overhead.

"What is that?" I ask.

"A police helicopter," he says. "An eye in the sky. I can't believe this is happening. You are a bad influence, Kalistratos."

"Glad to be of service," I say, getting to my feet. "Now what?"

"You ask like I've done this before. I'm a good boy, remember? I'm not used to the criminal life like you are." He stares at the ceiling of the bridge as the flying eye rumbles somewhere above us. Then it sounds as if it is moving north, away from us. We wait there for a while, silently listening. Then Tyler nods his head. "I think we're good. Let's get out of here."

We climb up the other side of the channel and come up to another fence, this one made out of thin strands of steel woven together, crowned with a twisted nest of metal thorns.

"There's gotta be a way through somewhere," he says. "Look for a hole."

I wrap my fingers around the metal strands and set them ablaze, and in a few seconds, they snap and fall away like burnt rope.

"Hell yeah!" Tyler says.

As I'm burning away more of the strands, the air is filled with what can only be the roar of a titan. The ground is trembling, and on the other side of the fence I see it—a cyclops wyrm charging straight for us, its terrible single eye flashing in the daylight like an evil sun. Tyler looks up but is not alarmed.

"It's a train," he says, touching my arm with gentle reassurance. "It's like a giant bus. We're good, don't worry. It's going to pass right on by."

I fight the urge to flee as the cyclops wyrm grows closer, clearly coming to trample us down—but then it turns, and I realize that it's following a path cut along the dirt. The sound of it is immense and terrifying.

Finally, I've burned away enough of the fence that we're able to pull it back, making a hole big enough for us to fit through. Tyler goes first and holds the flap back for me.

"Oh shit!" he shouts.

I look over my shoulder and see two guards on the opposite side of the channel. They're already running down the embankment, coming for us.

Tyler has no fear of the roaring cyclops. He runs right up to its side, but there's no way past it. Its massive body is a moving wall that stretches far in both directions, creating a wind that tugs at our hair and clothes. We sprint in the direction of its tail. Behind us, I see the guards have already made it to the fence. It won't be long until they're through the hole.

No choice. I use the last reserve of my powers and halt time again. The earth-shaking pounding of the titanic wyrm grinds to a low vibration and then is silent. Can't hold on for very long.

Tyler leads me through a gap in its vertebrae, and right as we leap down, time explodes back to full speed. We hit the dirt and roll. The guards on the other side are staring at us with jaws agape, and as we clamber to our feet, Tyler holds his fist into the air with his middle finger extended and waves it at the two men.

"This means ‘fuck you,'" he tells me.

"I like it," I say, and do the same.

We hop over a low hedge and run across a small road into a labyrinth of connected buildings. Tyler guides us through, taking turns seemingly at random. A shadow falls across our path. The sky, which had been bright and clear, was filling with thick gray clouds. Were Alyx here, he'd probably call it a bad omen.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To where I hope Jeff is waiting for us," he says. "Or else we're screwed."

We swing around a corner and freeze. Crawling slowly down the road directly in our path is one of the black and white kah beasts. It sets itself ablaze in a blinding blue and red light.

"Oh, we're screwed," Tyler groans.

Two guards emerge from the kah, and they shout for us to show them our hands.

"My hands?" I ask. "What do they want with my hands?"

"Just raise them," Tyler says.

"So, your plan is to surrender?" I say.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking. God, it would really be helpful if you could turn into a phoenix and fly us out of here right now. Can't you freeze time?"

"No. But I can still fight our way out. Look at them. They're frightened. I can easily take them."

"Yeah, hand to hand, I have no doubt you could. But trust me, the weapons in my world are deadly even if the person using them is weak."

"Will they attack if we flee?"

He smiles and shrugs. "I don't think I have a better idea. Three. Two. One."

We turn around and bolt back the way we came. The guards shout. I hear the kah roar to life and release a shrill squeal. Tyler pulls me down a narrow footpath. On either side of us, the buildings have walls made of tall, bluish mirrors, some of which are inset with a glass door. Tyler pulls on one, but it doesn't open. He tries another. Also locked. I hear the footfalls of the guard behind us, and then straight ahead at the far end of the path, the two guards from the aqueduct appear and cut off our escape. Tyler tries another door. This one opens. We hurtle through. A woman is standing behind a counter, and she screams and ducks down.

"Sorry!" Tyler says.

"Sorry," I echo.

We run past her into a narrow hallway lined with doors. The guards are right behind us. We burst out into a large storehouse filled with tall metal barrels. The smell of grain and alcohol is thick in the air—we're in some kind of brewery. Men stare at us in shock as we run through, weaving and ducking beneath long metal beams and pipes stretching and twisting in all directions. I notice carefully piled stacks of large sacks, some of which are open and filled with a fine grain. I quickly pull the pocket knife out of the pouch hanging around my neck and slash several of the sacks, dumping their contents across the floor. The workers shout in dismay as the stacks then begin to collapse behind me, crumbling into the path like bricks from a broken wall. Several of them rush over to attempt to stop the leaks, but they slip on the grain and collide with the pursuing guards.

Tyler kicks open a door, and we're outside again. The clouds have gone from a pale gray to a foreboding black, and the sun is hidden behind them. It's so dark out it could be evening, though it's only midday. There is an odd feeling in the air. Tyler looks up, then looks at me. He's felt it too.

Then we see it—a masterless shadow gliding across the ground. It moves like a droplet of water meeting and collecting darkness as it goes. Then the black puddle stops. Its surface is empty and deep, like a hole, and something pokes its head out from the puddle's depths. It's a monster dripping in a cloak of pure shadow. It has no eyes, and yet I know it is looking right at me. I can feel its driving purpose.

Devour.