The Ptarmigan Trail VOL 1. CHP 5. VERSE 5.

Volume One: The Road Out

Chapter Five

Verse five: The Ptarmigan Trail

Darius Salt strode across the black and white checkerboard tiles of the Inner Sanctum towards the massive body of Falsenight. The massive black serpent lay bloated and rotting like a beached whale, charcoal rib protruding through oil black skin melting like hot plastic in a kiln. The air around Falsenight was rank with the smell of propane gas and the beast was breathing in laboured gasps that sounded like metal fatigue in a skyscraper moments before collapse.

The great serpent stared into the distance, it's eyes milky white and shocking against the black of it's scales. 

"I hunger. Feeeed me." Falsenight slurred, it's words drawn out and desperate. 

"Does anyone have an explanation for this?" Darius said to the assembled crowd of agents and lieutenants standing nervously around the snake. 

Lady Cinnabar stood in front of the black monstrosity biting her lip. She wore clothing that seems to want to be red, but always caught the light wrong and continually looked ash gray instead- a kind of reverse iridescence. She walked barefoot and left bloody footprints that congealed into ugly black blood scabs marking the path she took through the story. She turned as Darius Salt approached, "The snake is dying my lord. The Pale Shepherd is almost certainly the cause. The poor creature is little more than a hollow shell now. When it dies, it's form will return to the Great Serpent and it will regain its lost power. Anything left of Falsenight's power will likely be devoured by the Shepherd to fuel his pretty little nightmare world. What shall we do?"

"Feed me!" Falsenight demanded with enough agonized effort that the crowd shuffled back several steps.

Darius Salt pointed at a random agent, "Eat him then! Where are my children?" As Darius finished speaking, Falsenight coiled painfully upwards, oily liquid coiling down black scales and seeping through spaces in the tiles. The agent indicated by Darius took a step back, as the crowd around him cleared. Falsenight opened its mouth so wide, the sound of a dislocating jaw echoed through the sanctum and then the huge serpent struck downwards, scooping up the agent and swallowing the suited figure whole. 

Cinnabar didn't look at the spectacle as she spoke, "The cadaver who walks like a man has failed to report in. It is so unlike him. I think the Bone Man has failed. And we have reports of portals opening to deeper layers of the Shadowlands."

"Portals? Who's opening them? None of our opponents have the power to open permanent portals. Are they using the cup to power this?"

"The cup was almost certainly absorbed by the Pale Shepherd. He turns our own power against us. I can't imagine any of the little gnats who oppose us having the power or the nerve to face the Shepherd. These portals do not appear created. I suppose it would be more accurate to call them rips in the fabric of the story. They are signs and portents. Our story is unable to support your empire and unless we can supply more tribute, this world will tear itself apart."

"Then we need to find my children."

"The hound has failed my King. The hound. We do not know why, but it has lost interest and no longer pursues the storytellers or your children. And the Bone Man has failed to report in. Your great monster lies dying. The old ones are walking the land and tearing your great works to pieces. Wendigo are being sighted by our agents in the field in larger numbers than we've ever seen here. The centre is not holding. Do you know how many people I had to kill look presentable this morning? We are running out of time my King. What other resources do we have?"

Darius did not answer. And after a moment Cinnabar continued speaking.

"What shall happen to us if the line breaks my lord? I was promised eternal youth. I do not fancy watching my debts come due all at once."

"The line will not break. I will not allow it." Darius answered.

"But our patron demands more every time. The sacrifice of your wife wasn't enough. A thousand years ago, that would have been more than sufficient. Even if we manage to pay tribute this time. What happens next time?" Lady Cinnabar pointed out the huge plate glass windows into the Bonelands and the city where the physical tower was anchored, the corporate headquarters of Salt and Sons. As she pointed, another shimmering tear in reality split the sky ragged and another world became visible beyond the edge of the tear. "The empire stumbles, the world begins to die. We will die. If not for this tribute, then on the next. We cannot sustain this. We are going to die."

Darius shook his head and then slapped Lady Cinnabar with a sweeping back hand and knocked her to the ground.

"I am never dying." He said through clenched teeth.

* * *

"I'm dying." Special Agent Saul Bridger announced as he dropped to his knees and coughed heavily before dropping his head to the ground and threw up heavily.

Brave Mountain didn't rise out of the terrain like a pillar or a wall of grey stone. The mountain crept up upon travellers The ground slowly turning towards the sky in a gentle slope that increased quickly, but no so quickly that an unwary traveler might not walk well up the mountain before realizing just how daunting the task of continuing had become. The mountain was not rock, not grey and white granite, but was mostly earth- rich brown and covered in trees and shrubs and moss and a layer of deep tan and burgundy ground cover composed of dead pine needles and leaves and cedar boughs. Salal and Kinninkinnick bushes grew abundantly and cedar trees stretched their branches across the old well worn trails.  Ptarmigan and grouse exploded out of the cover when startled and hustled off on foot or launched dramatically, if awkwardly into the air, brown speckled feathers beating against the sky.

The sun cooked the land until leaves were hot to the touch. The shadows lay deep and black and impenetrable, sharp contrast carved by the sunlight and where it did not fall. The sky was crisp and arced away into infinity above the mountain and made the enormity of the climb ahead far too clear. The top of the mountain itself lay hidden by the unassuming angle of the mountain. One could march upward and be confident that one was making progress, but the mountain gave no hint of how much further its summit lay beyond any single footfall. And this made the climb difficult, as each step was uncertain and at no point could a hiker be clear in their progress.

Harley looked down at the man and put a hand on his shoulder, "You get used to things being constantly insane, unfortunately. It's kind of terrifying how fast this stuff became normal, now that I say it."

"That's normal to you?" Bridger said between gasps, pointing up the hill towards what Harley could only describe as a hole in reality. The sky had torn open in front of them and through the hole a blasted wasteland was visible where the only life was the occasional desperate looking Wendigo scrambling around a barren version of Brave Mountain looking for and eating anything even remotely edible. 

Harley had walked with Bridger right to the base of the mountain in big bounding steps. Harley had refrained from travelling further than he could see and effect had disoriented Bridger severely. Harley suspected that this had contributed to Bridger's collapse at the sight of the tear opening up in front of them. 

"Normal enough at this point," Harley said.

"What is it?" Bridger asked, wiping his mouth and pulling himself to his feet.

"If, I had to guess? This sounds like what the Witch Doctor was talking about. The World is breaking apart. This is another part of the story, or a competing story, or the world as it looks without a story. Something like that. You want a better answer, let's survive long enough to ask the Witch Doctor when we get back."

A Wendigo began to stare at Harley and Bridger through the shimmering tear that hung in the sky between the men and the monster. The creature tilted its head to the left and then to the right and sniffed the air experimentally.

"Let's get moving. I don't when to be around when Wendigo start coming through that opening." Harley said. Bridger nodded reluctantly and they walked quickly away from the tear in the sky before anything emerged. Harley looked back several times as they left, but say nothing emerge from the tear while he was looking. And eventually the trail curved and the tear was obscured from view.

The first Torii gate was at the base of the mountain trail and was easy to find. Bridger led the way, Harley imagined that the older man felt obligated to do so, both because of his age and because of his official authority as a federal agent.

  

Brave Mountain didn't rise out of the terrain like a pillar or a wall of grey stone. The mountain crept up upon travelers. The ground slowly turning towards the sky in a gentle slope that increased quickly, but no so quickly that an unwary traveler might not walk well up the mountain before realizing just how daunting the task of continuing had become. The mountain was not rock, not grey and white granite, but was mostly earth- rich brown and covered in trees and shrubs and moss and a layer of deep tan and burgundy ground cover composed of dead pine needles and leaves and cedar boughs.Salal and Kinninkinnick bushes grew abundantly and cedar trees stretched their branches across the old well worn trails.  Ptarmigan and grouse exploded out of the cover when startled and hustled off on foot or launched dramatically, if awkwardly into the air, brown speckled feathers beating against the sky.

The sun cooked the land until leaves were hot to the touch. The shadows lay deep and black and inpenetrable, sharp contrast carved by the sunlight and where it did not fall. The sky was crisp and arced away into infinity above the mountain and made the enormity of the climb ahead far too clear. The top of the mountain itself lay hidden by the unassuming angle of the mountain. One could march upward and be confident that one was making progress, but the mountain gave no hint of how much further its summit lay beyond any single footfall. And this made the climb difficult, as each step was uncertain and at no point could a hiker be clear in their progress.

"Have you noticed yourself losing or gaining time lately?" Bridger asked Harley as they walked.

"Constantly. If you want to hear my best guess on why, I'd say it's the story moving things around to put us where it needs us to be."

"I don't even know what that means. You and everyone else you're with keeps calling this a story, but what does that mean?"

"I don't really know. I've listened, but they really haven't explained that part clearly. Either they're afraid to tell me the whole story, or they don't know the whole thing themselves. As far as I can tell, a story - in this context- is literally a story, but magical in some way that determines how the world behaves or looks or acts or I don't know. It feels like a Fisher King, Arthur and Holy Grail- the land is a representation of the king; only in this case the land is a respresentation of the story somehow."

"And that tear in the sky back there was a symptom of the story failing, so reality itself is failing?" Bridger asked.

"Maybe, kind of, but probably not exactly. Maybe this initiation thing will help me hear the story clearly and then I'll be able to explain it to you."

"This all tastes sour, you know that? We're operating on guesses and the advice of people who won't tell us the whole story. That Witch Doctor guy, you've never met him before today, right?"

"That's right."

Up ahead the trail became steeper and wooden beams had been added into the trail to prevent erosion and create natural earthen steps. A Few feet further up the hill was another bright red shinto shrine gate. Harley tapped the painted wood idly as they passed through and under the gate.

"I wonder how many of these there are. The Witch Doctor didn't say, did he? I don't remember hearing him mention how many. Do you?"

"No, and that's my point. Why do you trust him? He clearly knows more than he's telling. Why are you following his recipe? Why not let him taste his own soup?"

"This didn't start with me. It started with my best friend Marion getting prophetic dreams and visions. He tried to tell me about them and I didn't listen. And then karma or destiny or the story started kicking us. Marion got fired. I got laid off. My girlfriend broke up with me. The kids go missing and then call us. You guys start investigating us. By the time I started listening, things were so bad that we didn't have any good choices left. So let's just say that I'm more predisposed to listen to these mysterious figures than I was previously. The bad guys in this story have thus far twirled their moustaches pretty obviously, so I'm willing to trust the Witch Doctor for the moment. He hasn't tried to kill me, betray me or send a supernatural monster dog to hunt me. So that's something."

"Supernatural monster dog?"

"Don't ask. I think we've dealt with whatever it was. That's what dropped Fitzroy into his stupor. The kid was pretty impressive, but facing that thing down took a lot out of him. It seems like staying in this world takes effort and a certain amount of willpower, or similar. So stay on guard, because I don't know what triggers that shift, and I can't carry you and either fight or run as circumstance may demand."

They continued without much further conversation for about half an hour through the sparse boreal forest that lay upon the mountain like an island in a sea of scrub grass and arid plains all around the mountain. As they walked they passed through two more gateways.

"Well, that makes three." Bridger said as they walked under the arch of the gateway.

"Wait," Harley said, and both men stopped almost in unison, "Do you here that hum?"

Bridger nodded, the ground beneath them was vibrating, thrumming with like a speaker with its base set to maximum. The thrumming grew louder and the air began to shimmer around their ankles in all directions.

"Should we run?" Bridger asked.

"Run where? It goes in all directions. This is like that other tear only much bigger." Harley asnwered.

"Much bigger and on top of us!"

The land died before Bridger and Harley's gaze. The tear opened wider and as the shimmering edge passed over the it, the land emerged caked in dust the color of chalk with the consistency of salt.Tear spread and trees vanished, stumps remained and sometimes not even stumps. The vegetation withered away to dust and what remained was skeletal remains that looked as brittle as crystal.

The shimmering and the thrumming faded, and Harley suddenly noticed that the gateway's red paint was not faded to a pale pink and cracked and peeling to the point the wood's original color had almost resurfaced. The wood of the gateway itself was now splitting and cracking lengthwise. The shrine still stood, but looked impossibly ancient.

"This doesn't bode well," Harley noted, pointing at the gateway, "Do you hear any birds?"

"No, and I can taste the death. This is not a happy place." Bridger added.

"Remember that shift I was warning you about? With Fitzroy? I think it just caught us."

"Meaning what? We're caught in an alternate fantasy land or in the far future or similar?"

"I'm not sure. Marion always related the world he ended up in to a kind of Narnia world."

"We meet a talking lion and I am running."

 

* * *

Henrietta feed deer slugs into her shotgun's magazine as the Witch Doctor used a stick of chalk to draw a series of very witchy looking circles and runes onto the floor of her diner. The sign on her front door now read closed, and Henrietta and the Witch Doctor had put Harley's van into neutral and guided it behind the diner so that it wouldn't be visible from the highway. The front door and kitchen door were both locked and boxes from the store room had been piled in front of both doors as an added defense.

Still, as the army of Wendigo quickly closed in, Henrietta was not feeling optimistic.

"You sure that your magic mumbo jumbo is going to protect us?"

"In the short term? Absolutely sure. In the mid term? Reasoanbly sure. In the Long term? The circle will break like glass."

"That's not reassuring." Henrietta noted.

"We're in the climax of this part of the story, I wouldn't expect anything to be reassuring. In fact I expect things will get worse. I hope you have some aces up your sleeve, because you can be sure the other side is palming cards and hiding aces of their own."

"I'll do my best." Henrietta said with a nod, as she strapped on an armored vest. "I'm a prepper after all."  

"You have a bulletproof vest?" The Witch Doctor said with a raised eyebrow.

"Bullet resistant, let's be clear here. None of what you can buy is really bullet proof. It just sounds good. It all depends on distance and size of the round going in."

"The Wendigo don't use guns. But at least it will give some protection against their claws."

* * *

"You can't get it back this time little king."

Darius Salt stared grimly out the huge plate glass window of Salt and Sons Corporate Headquarters. He could see the the huge gaping holes in the sky and the wasteland visible through the great tears in the story. He could feel the presence of the Grey beside him, floating above the ground like a little alien from a bad science fiction movie, but with an insect's mandibles and compound eyes.

Darius did not turn to look at the figure. He stared out at the Wendigo swarming out across city streets to loot and devour. Car alarms thundered a cacophony of dissonant music, the Rite of Spring played backwards by a deranged brass band. 

Darius Salt ground his teeth together until his jaw hurt.

"so much sacrifice and two stupid nobodies and my own traitorous children can unravel everything." He muttered. 

The Grey spoke.

"The line is fraying little king. The line will break, your people have let you down."

"The line will not break."

"Then how will you pay the sacrifice? Will you sacrifice your generals and your forces, those traitorous failures to pay the cost?"

"How will I rule without my forces?"

"You can rebuild."

"With what? You'll have taken my tools."

"What else can pay the tribute?" The Grey asked. 

Darius Salt looked out at the apocalypse unfolding in front him. The sight seemed a revelation to him, and unveiling of a horrible truth. 

His cell phone rang and answering it, Darius heard the voice of the Bone Man.

"The storytellers have assistance. I believe it is wizards, possibly the Tenebrati. The Wendigo have cut us off from access to the targets. What do you advise my lord?"

Darius Salt narrowed his eyes and paused, silent. Then, without answering, Darius snapped his phone shut- ending the call.

He turned to face the Grey, "Take them. Take all of them. stuff yourself."

The Grey's mandibles chattered in anticipation.

* * *

"we're lost." Harley whispered, "Can you tell which is north? Help us get our bearings, maybe?"

Bridger shook his head, "I don't know how to tell which way is north. Why don't you do it?"

"I can only do it with a compass; or at night when I can spot the little dipper and the north star."

They crouched behind a rock, now well off the trail as two packs of Wendigo fought over the right to devour the decaying corpse of a jack rabbit now swarming with maggots and blow flies. 

Bridger rubbed his nose, "You want me to tell the monsters to wait till nightfall? Because by nightfall we'll be desert!"

"I know. I hear you." Harley answered in a rushed whisper, "But that's all I've got. If you have any ideas, I guarantee that I'll listen." 

"Why are we doing this?" Bridger asked, "What is the point of trying to get initiated? The world is breaking open and we're following the dictates of crazy old man with vibe of cantaloupe left in the sun too long. Night, are you even listening to me?"

"I'm always listening." Harley answered, "And yes, you're precisely right. The world is breaking. And we're being hunted by mythical cannibal creatures from a world of which we aren't a part. I don't have any answers you'd want to hear right now. But the only way myself and Marion and the Kids have survived this long is by listening to the crazy all around us and embracing the crazy as a weapon. So if the crazy witch doctor tells me to climb the mountain through the arches to get initiated, then I am climbing a mountain."

Bridger was silent, and after a moment Harley decided to push ahead, and continued speaking. 

"Do have any better options? Because I'm listening. I have been fighting cannibal spirits, soulless fake federal agents, double crossing witches, a supernatural hunting dog, and a full blown eldritch abomination. And I'd really like a clear picture of why and how to stop all of this from literally breaking my world open. 

But you haven't been able to nail down who is good and evil. The cannibals seem eat everyone indiscriminately. It doesn't matter if they're people who think you're chopped liver or people who want to fill you with holes like Swiss cheese, the Wendigo will eat them all the same. How do know you're on the right side? You guess. 

I don't know. I'm guessing too." 

"Should we just guess on the direction to the next gate as well then?"

Harley was about to answer when he noticed that the sounds of battle had subsided. Harley snuck a glance around the rock and saw two dozen gaunt Wendigo faces staring at their hiding place. Harley suddenly noticed a swatch of red down the hill behind the Wendigo. Harley realized he was staring a one of the gates, and he was certain that they had not passed through that one. Harley shook his head.

"We've missed a gate, it's down past the Wendigo. So I'm going to suggest that a more reasonable option at this point would be to run for our lives in a direction generally up the hill."

"Wasn't that supposed to make the mountain god or guardian angry? You want to open that can of worms?"

"You want to deal with the mob of cannibal monsters hunting us right now?" harley said and took off running.

Bridger took off beside him and the Wendigo boiled across the landscape towards them, "Those are horrible options!" 

"Welcome to my world!" Harley answered.

* * *

The Bone Man stared at his phone. His expression did not change. The agents looked at the Bone Man in confusion.

"We have failed." The Bone Man said at last, "And I fear that this failure has cost us everything."

He looked out at the battered sky line as other worlds glared through the shattered sky. 

"Close your eyes, and think of the empire."

The Bone Man looked down at his feet and saw that his body vanishing in little bites, as though an invisible army of insects were devouring him from the ground up, crawling up his body to erase him from the story.

The Bone Man looked out at the shimmering rips in the sky growing around him. He shook his head. 

"This is how it ends. Centuries and centuries of work. For ten thousand years we held the world and the empire together. We killed the wolves of Europe and wiped out the Dodo and the passenger pigeon to power the empire and keep the world together. We scoured the world for coal and oil, for gold and diamonds to feed the Grey. We civilized the ignorant and killed those who would oppose our great work. We defeated tribe after tribe from the Picts to the Pawnee when they refused a place in our empire. We built cities and monuments to eternity, but it seems we could not meet our side of the bargain. And so here we fail, here we end. How disappointing."

The Bone Man closed his eyes.

* * *

Harley and Bridger had managed to stay ahead of the Wendigo only by dint of the fact that the Wendigo were distracted by the local wildlife and each other. Chasing grouse and field mice and jack rabbits with equal enthusiasm, the Wendigo would frequently stop their pursuit to fight over the right to eat a tiny rodent or a scrawny game bird.

The Wendigo were still in pursuit and still within sight even, but Harley and Bridger had maintained a consistent distance from the mob. Harley was in fact beginning to feel vaguely optimistic about their chances of reaching the top intact, when the earth began to make noises. The ground rumbled like an angry volcano god. The Wendigo stopped behind them as the ground began to shift under their feet. The tremors increased and harley toppled to the ground while Bridger crouched low to maintain his balance. The earth rose up ahead of them, shifting like a living being, and shaped itself into an enormous bear. 

"Is the guardian a stone bear?" Bridger asked. 

Harley said nothing, but shook his head. The thing before them was not a bear. The thing before them was every bear that had ever been, made of earth and roots and partridge bones and rage. A great mountain come to life to guard the way to the their goal. Claws made of quartz scarred the cedar tree between the earthen bear and the team. The mountainous thing before them towered nearly as tall as a two story house and the hollow black holes that served as its eyes offered no remorse or compassion.

The Wendigo pulled back to a distance, clearly afraid of the bear guardian thing. 

"So, I guess we shouldn't have missed that gate?" Bridger said, "We can't fight that. We need to run."

Harley ignored his partner and focused on summoning Boneshaker. The footsteps of the guardian shook the ground and screwed with his focus. On the third attempt, Harley felt Boneshaker in his hands and he opened his eyes to find himself starting at the bear guardian's knee caps. He swung Boneshaker and connected with the guardian's knee cap and felt the momentum of his swing die a painful death. The guardian did not give at all, and the vibrations returned to Harley in excruciating waves up his arms to his shoulders. He nearly dropped his weapon. The guardian looked down and roared like the sounds of an avalanche.

"And now we're back to the whole running thing. It's getting old." Harley said to nobody in particular."