Christopher Golden - The Veil 01 - The Myth Hunters by The Myth Hunters Page B
Authors: The Myth Hunters
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breath coming too fast now, heart thundering suddenly in his chest. He shook his head as if to deny what he saw.
“Bow down!” the winter man roared.
Oliver glanced over and saw that Frost had already done so. The winter man was bent at the waist in a deep, formal bow. Oliver hesitated only an eyeblink longer, and then he followed suit. What choice did he have?
The screeching stopped, all at once. There came a sloshing noise from just a few feet in front of him, and then a thump. Flinching, waiting for claws and shark teeth to tear in to him, it was only when he heard the sloshing noise again that he looked up.
The Kappa had all stopped screeching, stopped attacking. One by one they were bowing. But the three nearest him, the ones who had been nearly on top of him a moment ago, had fallen over on the ground. An instant later, he understood.
Oliver stared in astonishment as each Kappa bowed, and the water from their open, concave skulls spilled out onto the ground. One by one, as they did so, they slumped to the scrub grass, twitching, gleaming eyes roving wildly as though searching for something they could not see.
The winter man uttered a short, barking laugh so utterly unlike anything Oliver had heard from him thus far that the man jumped, startled, his terrified heart hammering once more.
Then Frost bowed once again. “Foolish demons. They should never stray so far from shore.” The winter man grinned, showing sharp ice teeth, and turned to Oliver. “Now, run!”
This time there was no hesitation. Oliver did not even take a last look at the Kappa as he turned and fled with Frost. The winter man led the way, darting in amongst the trees. Oliver followed, his clothes stiff with dampness, and did not allow his discomfort to slow him. For several minutes they ran. His chest burned. From time to time Frost would brush past branches that became brittle with cold and snapped when Oliver pushed them out of the way. His breath came in heaving gasps and he was ready to plead with his companion to stop when they burst out of the small wood and found themselves at the base of a long, grassy slope. The snowcapped mountain was off to their left now, or near enough. They had been moving northeast all along.
Frost paused there and turned, still grinning, icy teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He laughed and threw up his hands and the wind gusted, twisting around him in a sudden maelstrom, and snow be-gan to fall from a perfectly clear sky. The warm night was abruptly chilled. Wet as he was, Oliver shivered.
“Quit that!” he snapped.
The winter man arched an eyebrow. Oliver had only seen him fearful and desperate and angry. This mischievous side to him was both endearing and somehow frightening.
With a single pass of frozen fingers through the air, the gust died and the snow evaporated. “You are alive, Oliver. Why don’t you celebrate that?”
The admonition struck home, but Oliver could not push his fear aside so easily. “Those things . . . you called them demons.”
“So I did. I told you that there were many gods here. There are even more demons.”
Oliver tried to catch his breath as he glanced back the way they had come. His view of the lake was obscured by the trees. “Won’t they come after us?”
The winter man tilted his head, and if Oliver was not mistaken, Frost actually rolled his eyes. “Those demons were from the land you call Japan . . . or they were, once upon a time, before the Veil was created. Their kind cannot refuse a gesture of politeness. We bowed. They were forced to bow. But without the water from the lake, they are too weak to attack. They would have to crawl back to the lake to get more, and even then, I doubt they would dare come so far from the water for fear of being stranded should it happen again.”
“But you’re not sure,” Oliver said.
Frost
“Bow down!” the winter man roared.
Oliver glanced over and saw that Frost had already done so. The winter man was bent at the waist in a deep, formal bow. Oliver hesitated only an eyeblink longer, and then he followed suit. What choice did he have?
The screeching stopped, all at once. There came a sloshing noise from just a few feet in front of him, and then a thump. Flinching, waiting for claws and shark teeth to tear in to him, it was only when he heard the sloshing noise again that he looked up.
The Kappa had all stopped screeching, stopped attacking. One by one they were bowing. But the three nearest him, the ones who had been nearly on top of him a moment ago, had fallen over on the ground. An instant later, he understood.
Oliver stared in astonishment as each Kappa bowed, and the water from their open, concave skulls spilled out onto the ground. One by one, as they did so, they slumped to the scrub grass, twitching, gleaming eyes roving wildly as though searching for something they could not see.
The winter man uttered a short, barking laugh so utterly unlike anything Oliver had heard from him thus far that the man jumped, startled, his terrified heart hammering once more.
Then Frost bowed once again. “Foolish demons. They should never stray so far from shore.” The winter man grinned, showing sharp ice teeth, and turned to Oliver. “Now, run!”
This time there was no hesitation. Oliver did not even take a last look at the Kappa as he turned and fled with Frost. The winter man led the way, darting in amongst the trees. Oliver followed, his clothes stiff with dampness, and did not allow his discomfort to slow him. For several minutes they ran. His chest burned. From time to time Frost would brush past branches that became brittle with cold and snapped when Oliver pushed them out of the way. His breath came in heaving gasps and he was ready to plead with his companion to stop when they burst out of the small wood and found themselves at the base of a long, grassy slope. The snowcapped mountain was off to their left now, or near enough. They had been moving northeast all along.
Frost paused there and turned, still grinning, icy teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He laughed and threw up his hands and the wind gusted, twisting around him in a sudden maelstrom, and snow be-gan to fall from a perfectly clear sky. The warm night was abruptly chilled. Wet as he was, Oliver shivered.
“Quit that!” he snapped.
The winter man arched an eyebrow. Oliver had only seen him fearful and desperate and angry. This mischievous side to him was both endearing and somehow frightening.
With a single pass of frozen fingers through the air, the gust died and the snow evaporated. “You are alive, Oliver. Why don’t you celebrate that?”
The admonition struck home, but Oliver could not push his fear aside so easily. “Those things . . . you called them demons.”
“So I did. I told you that there were many gods here. There are even more demons.”
Oliver tried to catch his breath as he glanced back the way they had come. His view of the lake was obscured by the trees. “Won’t they come after us?”
The winter man tilted his head, and if Oliver was not mistaken, Frost actually rolled his eyes. “Those demons were from the land you call Japan . . . or they were, once upon a time, before the Veil was created. Their kind cannot refuse a gesture of politeness. We bowed. They were forced to bow. But without the water from the lake, they are too weak to attack. They would have to crawl back to the lake to get more, and even then, I doubt they would dare come so far from the water for fear of being stranded should it happen again.”
“But you’re not sure,” Oliver said.
Frost
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