Stone Monsters: Only the Inevitable, #7

By N E Riggs

Terrible monsters roam the city of Xanadu at night, and the populace lives in fear. The gateway only opens one direction. For the first time, David is alone, with no hope for help.

There is a prophecy involving Xanadu, but David knows nothing about it. All he knows is that the monsters here seem familiar. And that he's the only one who can stop them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: N E Riggs
• Release date: Dec 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393700029

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Only The Inevitable

Book 7:

Stone Monsters

N E Riggs

Copyright © 2018 N E Riggs

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

N E Riggs

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Illustrator: Seth Pargin

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Editor: Angela Campbell

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1

The Hunting Hour

David stepped through the gateway into a quiet city. Stone flagstones covered the ground, and stone houses surrounded him. A large palace rose to his left, the top pagodas rising high above the rest of the city, also made of stone. Paper lanterns hung at intersections and doorways. This was Xanadu, according to his com pad.

The gateway popped out of existence. There wouldn’t be one back for nine days. That was fine. David wanted to be away from Bantong for a while. He walked slowly down the street. In the sky above, two large moons filled the sky, a smaller, dark pink moon almost hidden behind the second. He chuckled at the sight.

Laughter and the scent of meat cooking drew him onward. He passed no one on the street – the houses he passed had the shutters firmly closed despite the muggy weather. Stranger, he saw scoring on the sides of the houses. Wooden doors and shutters looked clean and new, but the stone walls had deep gouges in them. David shuddered and wondered what could cut stone – and what could cut stone but stopped short of wood. He finally saw lights from a large building at the end of the street.

For a moment he couldn’t read the sign, saw only weird, wiggly letters. Then they resolved themselves into English – his translator, hard at work. Shun’s Inn. With a shrug, David tried the door.

All sound ceased the moment he stepped inside. Men, women, and children sat around tables, plates of rice and pork and vegetables before them. A large fire roared in the corner and lanterns filled the large space, showing that there was a second story that hugged the walls. Two men and a woman had been playing instruments near the fire. The people looked predominantly Chinese, if perhaps dark enough to be Thai or Vietnamese or something. The couple in the corner appeared Indian, and a man at the bar was white. The people wore loose robes that buttoned up diagonally to the left shoulder, all in basic hues. At first, the scene seemed Medieval to David, albeit with an Eastern theme, but then he noticed a large clock hanging from the balcony and a woman wearing glasses.

A waitress dropped an empty mug, which landed on the ground with a deafening clunk.

Um, hi? David raised his hand and smiled.

Who are you?

What were you doing outside?

How did you survive the hunting hour? Questions came from every direction, one piling atop the previous.

Leave him alone! A man’s voice rose above the others, forcing them to murmurs. A middle-aged man pushed his way to the front of the room. His hair receded, and he wore a messy apron tied over his robe. He obviously isn’t a local. Here, stranger. Come this way. The man led David off to the far side of the room, away from the fire. He motioned to the musicians, who started playing again. Slowly conversations began again, though people kept looking towards David in wonder. I am Shun, owner of this fine establishment. May I ask your name?

David Maza. He could probably use his real name, but Maza felt safer. Besides, if he ran into trouble and needed help from his Bantonan friends, the only ones he could ask knew him as Maza, not Kemp. Strange place you got here, if you don’t mind me saying.

Shun smiled without humor. You will soon learn. Especially if you insist on walking during the hunting hour. Beer! He waved over a waitress, who left mugs for both him and David.

I can’t pay for this, David said. He’d seen no modern technology, nothing to suggest this place had regular contact with Bantong. And his translator had struggled – they probably wouldn’t accept his money.

You walked unharmed during the hunting hour. That deserves a drink at least, my new friend.

David smiled. Thank you. The beer was lukewarm and tasted of cinnamon and parsley. He’d drank worse.

Before he could ask anything, Shun spoke again. You come to us without knowing about the hunting hour. Tell me, do you hail from Bantong?

The locals knew of it, then. Most recently, yes. I walked through a gateway and found myself down the street. I followed the music and wonderful smells, and met you.

Shun laughed. Then you are a fortunate man. Since you are also a stranger, let me tell you about the dangers in Xanadu. When the red moon peeks out from behind its sisters, evil things stalk this world. Monsters run amok. They kill and eat anything they find, be it animal or man.

What sort of creatures? I’m something of an expert in monsters.

Shun raised an eyebrow but said, Shabtis, friend. Thy are a legend from one of our neighboring countries, but they stalk our streets as well as our neighbors’. They form from their surroundings. Here in the city, they come out of the stone. No sword can break their bones, no fire can burn them. They appear only outside, never indoors. Our soldiers gave up fighting them years ago. Now they hide away like the rest of us.

David blinked. Years? This has been going on that long? Why haven’t you asked anyone for help? The Sword Priests would have fixed your problem long ago.

That’s just it. We can’t go to Bantong for help. A demon king came here five years ago. He cursed the smallest moon, turned it the color of blood. He made the shabtis rise up, turned our world against us. And he cursed our gateways. They only go one direction now. You cannot return to Bantong.

David dropped his mug. It was a good thing he’d finished it, he thought distantly as it rolled across the table, still in one piece. When he’d come here, he hadn’t bothered to look back at the gateway. On the Bantonan side, it had been blue, and his com pad assured him there would be another in a few days. He wondered if the gateway had been colored different on this side, but he didn’t know.

Not long ago, he’d have panicked. The thought of being stuck on some strange world, with no way home, still made his heart race. But David had seen many mad things since he first stepped foot on Bantong. He didn’t know for sure that the gateway had turned one way. Even if it had, David might still be able to travel through it. He’d survived a time gate. Well, if he used the term ‘survived’ loosely.

He took a few long, deep breaths while he righted his mug. His hands shook so he pressed them against the table. Have you tried sending a message through a gateway? A person might die, but messages might reach the other side. It depended on how the one-way gate worked. Did it kill people who tried to walk through it, or was it basically a wall? He hoped the former.

Shun shrugged. I’m not a noble, I don’t know. The prince, before he died, said he’d sent many messages to Bantong. Since then, the nobles say they try every time they see a gateway. Why would the Bantonans help us? By coming here, they might trap themselves. They would never risk that. Shun’s voice sounded weary as he spoke.

David looked around the room again. The musicians played loudly, the people all but shouted. Smiles looked forced, and the patrons drank a great deal. These people weren’t happy. They lived in constant fear, forcing joviality. How many people have been killed by the shabtis?

Far too many. Here in the city, I don’t know anyone who hasn’t lost a loved one, though in the last year or so we’ve learned how to keep safe. Merchants speak of worse horrors in the countryside. They say shabtis have killed half the population.

Half! And he’d thought the situation on Buyan was bad.

Shun ran a hand through what hair he still had. Food and goods travel more slowly, since no one can travel at night. There are villages enough to provide shelter, but life has changed. Once, we were rich and happy. Now we aren’t.

Before David could ask another question, he heard a roar from outside. The tavern fell silent. When the music started again, it was louder than before, as if to drown out the sounds from outside. Shun held up three fingers on each hand as he stared at the door. The people sitting closest to the door inched their chairs back.

Is that a shabti? David asked. Shun nodded. I need to see it. Can I open a window?

Shun bit his lip. Not on the first floor, he said at last. Come. He stood and led David up a flight of stairs. More people ate here, looking down over the rest of the tavern. Small rooms lined the second floor too. From the sounds within those rooms, David could guess how they were being used. Shun stopped at a window that looked over the street out front. As he reached for the shutters, his hands shook badly.

Let me. David pushed Shun aside, and the man gladly went. He pulled out his agitator then unlatched the window. Carefully, he peered out.

For a moment he saw nothing. His eyes had grown used to the light inside the tavern. But with three moons out, two of them huge, the streets of Xanadu were very bright. David searched each direction, trying to see a shabti. A roar came again, closer than the last one David had heard.

He saw something move in the shadows. It stepped into the light of a paper lantern, and David breathed, Fuck me. It reminded him a bit of the tupilaqs from Babylon. It seemed made of stone, but only a little larger than a human. It limbs weren’t as thick as the tupilaqs had been, and so the creature could move almost silently. It stopped every few feet and sniffed the air. While it had the body of a human, it had a flat nose and a mouth full of sharp teeth – but no eyes.

As it walked closer to the tavern, it sniffed more often, its nostrils flaring. It clawed at the side of the building, a hideous scratching sound, worse than fingernails on a blackboard. David covered one ear and almost dropped his agitator. The shabti reached the door of the inn. The door was made of wood, and David was sure the shabti would break it down. It scratched at it, but the wood held firm. With another roar, it continued on. Though David peered intently at the wood, he saw no markings on it.

The demon didn’t want all of us dead, Shun said. He stood behind David, watching the shabti below them. I think he wanted us afraid. I once saw a shabti rip apart a cart made of studier material than my door. But my door stops them, and so does everyone else’s.

Let’s see how tough it really is. David flipped his agitator to kill mode and shot the shabti in the back. The shabti screeched, grabbing at its back as it stumbled forward. David shot it a second time. The shabti fell to the ground and didn’t move, but David shot it twice more, just to be sure. We should check it out, he said, putting his agitator away.

He made to walk away from the window, but Shun caught his arm. You can’t go outside. Not now. The hunting hour is still upon us. You were fortunate enough to survive one trip outside. Wait. In a few minutes, it will be safe.

Fine. He didn’t really want to see what the shabti was made of. He remembered Kanlan cutting into the tupilaq they’d killed that first night in Babylon. Inside had been human organs, blood, and circuitry. David didn’t think he could coolly cut up a dead creature like Kanlan had. But if he wouldn’t, who else would? He doubted the locals would even get close to the dead shabti.

He leaned against the window and watched the shabti. It didn’t move; it had to be dead. Four kill shots had stopped tupilaqs.

Something new shifted in the shadows. Four more shabtis appeared, two from down the street. One seemed to form from the wall of the tavern while the last rose from the stones in the street. The new shabtis grabbed the dead shabti and picked it up.

Motherfuckers— No, you don’t! David yanked his agitator out again, firing rapidly. The closest shabti fell immediately as he hit it twice in succession. The other three rounded and leapt at the window. They crashed into the side of the tavern with a loud boom, and all sounds from inside ceased again. The shabtis were tall, but not tall enough to reach David on the second story. Take that, assholes. He shot the next one.

One of the two remaining shabtis grabbed the other. It crouched down and wove its fingers together, making a step for the other monster. David swore and shot more rapidly as the second shabti jumped for the window, its stone claws outstretched. He caught the shabti in the face, inches from the window. It plummeted back to the ground and landed hard enough to crack the stone slabs that made up the street.

David fired again and again, until he’d hit each shabti at least five times. None of them moved. Shit, he panted. I am so glad you had us come up here.

Yeah. Shun had fallen back, away from the window. The customers nearby had moved away too, and David couldn’t blame them. Is that an agitator?

Yes. David turned back outside, watching. If any other shabtis came to take their dead comrades away, he’d be ready. The paper lanterns in the area had been destroyed in the fight, so he couldn’t see as well now. He watched the