Contagion
Part 2
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The rattikin seemed to know the underbelly of the town far
better than its ‘official’ inhabitants for the hidden entrance to the castle
was exactly as they had described. Although they had sealed up their passages,
the elderly rattikin Hetik had revealed there was one
more way in through the deepest, oldest part of the keep which they kept locked
with a heavy metal door the humans had put there for reasons lost to time. Trembling
with fear their guide, the hapless Itti had pointed
them up a winding tunnel – the last part of the subterranean journey to the
castle – and then fled back into the labyrinthine passageways to the relative
safety of their enclave, locking the rusted metal door behind him. The passage
turned out to be a natural channel in the rock carved over the millennia by a
trickle of water and in recent centuries artificially widened at some point to
create a drainage tunnel from the castle’s lower levels. Then, as is often the
way with things that do their jobs quietly and reliably, its existence had been
forgotten. Its walls had grown thick with slippery algal growth, thriving in
the black dampness and upon what must have been a surprisingly nutrient-rich
watercourse.
The climb was shallow
but treacherous thanks to the slime and Soul had to abandon her light spell to
use both hands to grasp the slick rock. It was pitch black and progress was slow as they had to feel around for hand and foot-holds.
Now and again one or the other would slip, though not actually fall. In the
silence broken only by the trickling water the sound of their sliding was
thunderous to their ears and they'd freeze, fearful that whatever lurked above
in the accursed keep might hear and come for them. After a while they began to
notice the darkness was no longer absolute – a very faint phosphorescence flowed in the water, leached from some unknown source
above.
An increase in the
intensity of this gentle glow heralded the end of the climb. The passage closed
and they were forced to crawl through the sudden narrows. It ended in a low,
rough-hewn arch beyond which the greenish phosphorescence seemed bright as day
in comparison to their heretofore dim path. The broken teeth of what was once a
grating jutted out from the stone arch.
Soul stopped and eyed
the remains of the grating despondently, “A rattikin might get through ok but
we’re too big! We’ll end up with instant tetanus if we try crawling over here.”
She whispered. Then remembering Shade wasn’t capable of catching infections
corrected herself, “Well I will, anyway.”
Shade was quite a
moment, thinking about this then whispered back, “What’s beyond?”
Crawling right up to
the arch Soul peered through, “It’s some kind of cellar. There’s this glowy stuff clustered round a pool – looks like the water
pops up as a natural spring in here. Ew! It’s fungus – the room’s totally full of it!” The
smell of its musty contents was almost overpowering and made Soul burst out
coughing.
“Really? What d’they look like?”
“Is that important?”
Soul asked. Getting no immediate answer she shrugged to herself and peered at
them again, “Fungus-y, like eating mushrooms with upside-down heads and dark
green splodges. Happy?”
“Uh
huh. Those’re celephae. They were fashionable a century or so ago ‘cos they were thought to be an aphrodisiac and people, well
those who could afford a deep, dark cellar with the right conditions, used to
grow them. It turned out they drove you mad and gave certain important body
parts necrosis after a few doses so they kinda went
out of fashion.”
“And?”
“Well if there’s a
room full of them then most likely it’s been abandoned for years! No one would
have gone in here for fear of the side effects.”
“Right.” Soul looked dubiously at the jagged grating
again and then even more distrustfully at the fungal crop beyond, “And we’ll be
okay will we?”
“Sure. I have studied some alchemy, love! Trust
me, the only way we could harm ourselves in there’d be by eating the celephae or rolling naked through them for a few hours!” He
paused, briefly enjoying the idea of ‘rolling naked’ somewhere with Meccha but reminded himself this wasn’t the time, “Let’s
back up to where it’s wider – then I can go ahead and take care of those bars.”
In the meantime Soul
had been poking at the gratings and discovered they were so rusted and ancient
that they all but disintegrated at her touch. “No need, hon’,”
she smiled and thrust her arm forward, sweeping it from side to side. Knowing
the cellar was abandoned she did not worry too much about the noise as she used
her metal bracer to bash out the remains of the bars. Within moments the way
was clear and she squirmed through the gap. Once free she stood and stretched
out, her muscles a little stiff from the cold, cramped conditions of their
climb, enjoying the relative spatial freedom of the cellar.
With some difficulty
Shade crawled through after her, the spikes of his shoulder guards proved too
broad for the gap and he had to take them off to fit through. Once up and
armoured again he inspected the mouldering wood of the locked door. He could
easily have reduced it to splinters with a single kick but thought it wiser to
keep their entry into the castle low-key so with care he picked the mechanism.
It was a simple design and he sprung it easily. Apparently no one had thought
the drainage channel a security risk.
The door opened into a
blackness Soul’s vision could not penetrate after the fungal glow. Shade
informed her it was a corridor that curved away in both directions, “Which
way?” he mused.
“I don’t know. I
suppose one is as good as the oth- wait!” Soul
stopped herself and stepped further into the passage, “Am I imagining things or
is there a slight draught?”
Barely discernable as
the ancient breath of a tomb, a very faint draught drifted from the left. There
was no hint of fresh air to it but at least it gave them a direction.
Soul began the
incantation for an illumination spell, but Shade interrupted her, “In this
darkness? Why not do a song and a dance to announce our presence in style?”
Though his tone was
not unkind, she still mock-pouted at him, knowing he could see.
“Have it your way
then, sir sarcasm.” Shade said nothing
but she suspected he was smiling as she took his arm for him to lead the way.
The passage was not
long and they found a staircase at its end. Its shallow steps, carved out of
the hill’s natural stone, were dusty but rattikin-sized footprints going in
both directions showed they had not gone completely unused. These were not
fresh and not knowing the rate of accumulation of dust it was hard to tell when
another being had last passed here, save it must have been months, perhaps
winters ago at least.
At the top of the
staircase was another locked door. The low glow of lamplight shone beneath it
and the two listened intently for signs of life beyond. After a few minutes of
silence they decided it was safe to proceed. The door itself was sturdier this
time but the lock was again simple. Soul had often meant to ask her partner to
teach her how to pick locks too but something always held her back. She didn’t
like to think of herself as the jealous type but for some reason she did not
much like to be reminded of Shade’s mercenary days, back when he cleaved to the
arms of another lover, the werecat known as Panther.
The remembrance of the last time their paths had crossed, Panther’s lascivious
smile cast at Shade and the sly look in her eyes had made her blood boil,
bringing the monstrous wolf within Soul almost to attack. Even now months later
and half a continent away she caught a growl begin to rumble at the back of her
throat.
“What’s wrong?” Shade
paused in the act of opening the door, thinking she’d sensed something.”
She flustered only
momentarily, “Nothing! Um... Do you smell something?”
It was just meant as a diversion but as Shade stopped and sniffed she realised
there was indeed an unknown scent in the air. An animal smell but not one she
or Shade could recognise. As they slipped out into this new deserted corridor
and silently closed the door behind them, the draft from the way to the left wafted
the odour to them much more strongly. They froze as some sixth sense warned
them the unmistakably bestial odour was of no prey animal. An underlying scent
of the rotted flesh of its meals confirmed this. The manticore! They chose to
begin their investigation by heading in the opposite direction.
The dank cellars at
their point of entry soon gave way to slightly less dank servants’ quarters
though these lay strangely silent like the rest of the town. There were
definite signs of activity that increased as they moved up one level then
another but the unswept, dirty floors and state of disrepair implied it was not
business as usual here.
Although they had not
yet seen their foe both Shade and Soul were on edge and moved with the utmost
stealth, blades drawn they kept to the shadows away from the dim pools of
torchlight. At length they reached a flight of stairs that spiralled out of
sight. Some niggling sensation at the back of his mind made Shade extra
cautious. Silently indicating to Soul to wait where she was, he started alone
up the stairs, his bare feet making no sound and the incantation ready to
invoke the magical flame held within his sword blade on his lips. Ears strained
he heard a slight shuffling noise and froze. After a pause the sound came again
then again, something was coming down the stairs!
Shade desperately
motioned to Soul to find somewhere to hide.
“Where?” She mouthed
back. The corridor was long and featureless save for the lanterns and
occasional doorway, the closest of which she’d slipped back to but it was
locked.
“Shit!” Shade hissed,
watching as she tried the next door. The footsteps were getting too close,
“Stay right back. If it’s one of those plague-bearers then run – you can’t risk
breathing its spoors! I’ll deal with it.” He added knowing from her expression
she was about to protest. After a brief hesitation Soul backed away, wrapping
her dark green cloak about her to blend as best as possible into the shadows.
Figuring the only place for an ambush would be at the turn of the staircase,
Shade flattened himself against the pillar wall of the centre of the spiral.
His heart beat loud in his ears
Though slow, his heart
beat loud in his ears and was distracting him so with a reluctant effort he
made it stop. Although he no longer needed a heartbeat or to breath like the living,
his body still continued with the remembrance of being human – something he was
glad of for it made him feel more human but now was not the time for that. His
fighting edge lay in being one of the Undead.
The halting steps
approached with painful slowness for the waiting Daemonslayers. After an
eternity the stooped form of a hulking guard dressed in tattered uniform and chainmail – employed for his size by the look of it –
rounded the corner and saw Soul, who had given up on trying to
hide.
The Infected’s pallid eyes widened and from its blackened lips
a low moan began to rise into a roar of alarm. Shade instantly lunged forward,
lancing his blade upward through the thing’s chest. The momentum pushed the
once-human backward up a couple of steps until it hit the curved wall at which
point it finally seemed to realise what had happened. A dying sigh, strangely
wistful in its tone escaped it and the body toppled forward. Caught off balance
as he tried to pull free his sword, Shade was unable to escape the course of
the fallen giant and both corpse and Daemonslayer went tumbling down the stairs
with a scraping and thumping that thundered in their silent confines. Shade hit
the floor first and rolled aside just in time to avoid providing a soft landing
for the body.
Further back Soul
still had her hands over her ears, her face a grimace at the dreadful din. It
was apparent the pathetic heap at the foot of the stair posed no further threat
and she came over to look, taking in the decrepit, mangled appearance To think this used to be a person, she
thought sadly, “Do you think anyone heard?”
“No idea. Let’s get
moving before we find out.” Shade looked around worriedly, certain the noise
would have raised the alarm. In the wake of the dying echoes there was only
silence.
Against their grim
expectations, the racket did not bring running any more Infected and the
Daemonslayers progressed unhindered through the lower castle passages, finally
discovering the kitchens and a way into the upper levels. Hetik had told them the wizard’s study, where they suspected he would keep the Sphere
of Binding, was behind the Great Hall adjacent to where they now were. The
sickness had reached the castle long before it touched the rest of the town and
the abandoned food here, some of it left half way through preparation, had long
ago been reduced to mouldy dust. They crossed through to a further set of steps
leading up, keeping their guard though there was still no sign of life.
Soul’s stomach
grumbled unhappily; she hadn’t eaten a decent meal since the previous night
(and even that had not been very good, her attempted curried rabbit having gone
awry). She sighed, feeling thoroughly worried and miserable. Her shoulders
slumped as the weight of the last few hours settled heavy on her mind but then
Shade put a comforting arm around her, “It’s okay, Mech’.
We’ll come through.”
“I know. Just it’s
been a long, bad day.” She replied, feeling better knowing he was with her.
“The Great Hall’s up
these steps. The mage’ll probably have some kind of
guards there. Since he hasn’t sent anything after us it’s likely we’ve gone
unnoticed so maybe we can get the drop on ‘em. You
ready?”
Her features set; Soul
raised her sword as a yes, prepared to deal with whatever waited for them atop
those stairs.
To their surprise, the
great hall was empty. Shade, who had gone first, gazed about suspiciously. The
hall lived up to its name, though he had to admit he’d seen greater. It was a
large chamber with a high peaked ceiling supported by six stone pillars laid
out in rows of three. Wooden beams crossed just below ceiling level, supporting
great candelabras whose light was long-extinguished. It was an interior room
and between the numerous tapestries fake ‘windows’ of stained glass had been
placed over alcoves in the walls behind which oil lamps flickered dimly,
providing the only illumination.
“Where’re the
guards?!” asked Soul in surprise as she came up behind him, “I don’t like
this.”
“Me neither.” There
had to be something here. Shade growled softly in the back of his throat, his
nerves on edge, senses straining. He was right… suddenly he was aware they were
not alone and had been aware since reaching the hall, just it had failed to
register with his consciousness until now. There were two of them, one very
close. His gaze tracked upward and there in the shadows upon one of the beams
rested a figure. It was almost lost in the darkness but his keen vision picked
it out and his stare turned to one of shock.
“What? What do you
see?”
“Blackjack?” Shade was uncertain. The form was
unmistakable, he could see it now, but what was he doing up there. He started
to unfold his wings. Soul saw him now and stepped further into the room away
from Shade for a better look. Without warning the dracosvulf suddenly dropped
from the beam.
Soul yelped and leapt
aside as Blackjack swooped at her, "What the hells are you playing at,
you-" the insult died on her lips as he landed and turned. There was a
decidedly unplayful animal snarl on his face but it was his eyes that made her falter. Cataract white;
just like the other Infected they had encountered. With a growl he swept one of
his wings forward and Soul did not dodge in time. Luckily it didn't hit her
with its potential full force but still she was sent flying to land badly
winded against the nearest wall. She tried to stand up using one of the
tapestries to pull on but the wooden rail to which it was attached was old and
worm-eaten. With a loud crack it gave way, burying her under cumbersome yards
of mildewed and dusty material.
Shade moved to help
but a lighting blue blur streaked out from behind a pillar. Darkclaw caught him a vicious kick to the stomach, knocking him over but thankfully the
toughness of his chimera leathers meant the wicked sickle toe claw for which
the assassin was partly named had not penetrated. He would have been badly winded but Shade decided now was not the time
to allow his attempts to maintain being human to limit him and leapt back to
his feet, facing off against his friends. His sword had flown from his hand as
he fell but he hesitated to retrieve it, not wanting to have to use it to fight
here. He felt a sickening weight in his stomach as he saw the white films over
their eyes; this was probably going to get nasty. However Shade saw one
advantage, Darkclaw and Blackjack both moved in a
cumbersome, awkward way and like the other Infected there was no sign of
anything but the most basic intelligence which meant he and Soul were only up
against deadly speed and brute force. Still, this was not the most ideal of
prospects. With Soul vanished from sight both had focussed their attention on
him so Shade backed away from where she was struggling to get free, leading
them away.
With a reptilian hiss
Blackjack lunged forward to attack first. Shade blocked the slashing strike of
his outstretched talons then had to leap back as his long jaws snapped shut
where his neck had been an instant earlier. Darkclaw was already there and using his tail swept Shade’s feet out from under him,
pitching him over backward. As he fell F’lair lashed
out with a front kick that landed under the assassin’s jaw, snapping his head
back. Darkclaw was built for speed and agility and
though he was quite tough, was no way strong enough to withstand Shade’s undead
strength and staggered back, stunned. Using his momentum Shade did a full back-flip
to get on his feet again, just in time to catch a wicked left hook from
Blackjack across his right cheekbone which spun him back so hard he smacked
into the pillar behind with enough force to momentarily lose his balance.
Soul had found her way
free of the tapestry in a few heartbeats and was just in time to see Blackjack
land his punch. Darkclaw was back on his feet too,
“Not good,” not good at all! She panicked
as she suddenly recognised the move Blackjack was about to make; sweeping
forward both his wings toward F’lair, crossing them.
She knew what came next: he’d cross his large sickle-like wing-claws in a
decapitation move she’d seen tried and tested on previous occasions. She had to
stop it! Surging forward she let loose the beast within, ignoring the familiar
pain as her shape began to change concentrating instead on using the unnatural
burst of speed it lent her.
Snarling, Soul caught
Blackjack by the arm and with a strength she would have lacked moments earlier
flung him across the room with astonishing force. Blackjack slammed heavily
into the far wall but had been able to spread his wings just enough to slow and
reduce the impact and was on his feet a moment later. It proved a moment too
long for Soul, transformation complete, was already upon him having bounded
easily across the great hall after him. With a guttural, hollow howl he turned
to face the attack, lashing out with his wings again but the werewolf was too
quick and ducked under the lethal sickle wingclaw as
it swept past then came up and grabbed the side of his head. Following the
movement through she smacked the side of his head hard against the wall. When she
let go Blackjack slumped to the floor.
Soul turned to go help
Shade but a pang of worry stopped her. What if she’d used too much force? She
pushed back the beast to become human once more as she knelt to check the
unconscious dracosvulf. She relaxed when she saw he was breathing, unconscious.
His left temple was bloody where he had struck the wall but the wound itself
was already coagulating, “You’ve lived through worse, friend, though I really
hope you don’t remember this when you wake up or I’ll never hear the end of it,
will I?”
Just then something
whirred past her head, so close it clipped some strands of hair on route to
burying itself in the wall. It was one of Darkclaw’s shuriken. Shade had dodged it easily as the assassin’s abilities were greatly
diminished. Soul’s earlier tapestry troubles gave her an idea and she picked
the weapon out of the wall. The hand to hand fight was taking Shade and Darkclaw close to another of the wall hangings, this one
much bigger than the one she’d been stuck under. Taking careful aim she threw.
The shuriken sliced straight through one of the two ropes that attached the
wooden rod from which this tapestry hung to the wall.
“What’re you doing?!”
yelled Shade, wondering what was up.
“Pull it!” she yelled
back. He got the clue and leapt back from Darkclaw and heaved with all his might on the other end of the tapestry. The other rope
snapped and the whole thing fell, tipping forward away from the wall and
landing squarely over the unsuspecting hssaar-lizardman.
Hating himself for doing something like this, Shade ascertained which end of
the clumsily moving form under the hanging was the head, then knocked Darkclaw out with a single blow.
“Let’s go.” He said
simply. His expression was unreadable, but Soul could tell he was clearly upset
at what they’d had to do to their friends.
Shade led the way, his
anger replacing earlier caution with speed. The door at the back of the great
hall was locked. He snarled and ripped it off its hinges. Soul said nothing and
followed quietly as he stalked through, waiting for him to regain his
composure. It worried her to see F’lair like this, so
angry he’d lose touch with his desire to remain human. He did not seem to have
noticed his change in appearance, the built-up muscles and his face becoming
more feral At the end of a short corridor an archway
led into a room brimming with books, manuscripts and artefacts. It reminded
them of Hetik’s study although here the items were
all covered in arcane writing and magical symbols. Strange charts were pasted
here and there on the walls though trying to read their writing made Soul feel
strangely nauseous. There was no wizard. In fact, the layer of dust covering
everything in a thin grimy blanket suggested he had not bothered with his study
in week, perhaps longer. Strange behaviour indeed for a wizard but then Hetik had said his attention was fully absorbed by the
Sphere after its discovery.
It was obvious there
was no Sphere of Binding here either. “It’s not here!” yelling a dreadful curse
Soul instantly wished she hadn’t heard, Shade heaved the huge desk over in a
fit of pique. The terrible crashing of glass bottles and unidentified metal
artefacts onto the flagstone floor made a din greater than their fight had.
Soul covered her ears then smacked Shade on the back of his head as the noise
faded,
“What the hells are
you doing?!”
His shoulders slumped,
the fury flowing out of him “Sorry. I just…”
Soul reached up and
cupped her hands to his face, making him look at her, “I know. I’m worried sick
about the guys too but we have to keep our heads here. If the Sphere’s not here
in Pilan’s own study, where else is it going to be?
Think!”
“His pet manticore… its
lair’s deep in the castle so it’d make a safe place to guard something like
that?” he volunteered after a while.
“That’s good enough
for me!” smiled Soul. She had already surmised as much but had wanted to make
Shade concentrate on something other than his anger. It seemed to work as his
predatory teeth receded and his face regained its human caste as he calmed, the
bright green-yellow glow of his eyes dimming once more.
They plunged back into
the keep’s depths at a run, slowing at corners to ensure no more Infected had
turned up but found their way clear. They slowed again as they reached the
second-lowest level and paused at the door they had picked the lock on, gazing
doubtfully up the corridor. “You ever fought a manticore?” Soul asked.
“Nope. Never even seen
one in the flesh before. Still, how bad can it be? It’s a beast, not a daemon
or some immortal… we’ll be ok. Just whatever you do don’t let it sting you. I
heard they’re pretty venomous.”
“Uh huh, I’ll bear
that in mind.” Soul was unenthusiastic. The trouble with manticores being so rare
was there was very little on them in the bestiaries she had read and even that
was information was dubious in its reliability. Normally Blackjack and his
‘vast experience’ (which he could be quite annoying in reminding her about)
would fill in the knowledge gaps, but they were on their own this time.
After fifty feet or so
the original corridor came to end in what had once been a store room. The far
wall of the room itself was gone, reduced to a pile of bricks and rubble heaped
against the remaining walls. Its removal had revealed a once-secret passage which
led upward at a gentle incline. That animal scent and the smell of its old
meals was much, much stronger now and they wondered if the keep’s occupants had
perhaps been fed to the beast, explaining its abandoned state. The breeze was
stronger now too and had a hint of fresh air to it. The tunnel’s black walls
were of a strange consistency, more like a volcanic lava tunnel than something
made by human hand and Shade suggested it had been ‘excavated’ with magic,
possibly by melting the rock stage by stage. The beginnings of stalactites
clinging to the roof indicated this tunnel was centuries if not millennia old. Occasional
oil lamps had been attached to the walls with iron bands to light the way
indicated more recent activity.
A few metres before
the tunnel came to an abrupt end into darkness was a portcullis gate with a
lever to operate it embedded in the wall just in front. Currently it was up
though some of the bars could be seen at the top. They appeared to be made of
silver engraved with runes and both Shade and Soul eyed it very warily as they
stepped hastily through then cautiously approached the end of the tunnel. It
opened out into a cavern lit by a single angled shaft of moonlight that flooded
in through an opening that, from the heap of trees and bits of building
directly beneath it, had opened up only recently. It was certainly large enough
for a manticore to get in and out. The cavern was lost in darkness but for the
pool of moonlight at the centre of which, on a golden stand upon a pedestal,
sat a glowing white sphere. The Sphere of Binding.
“Don’t look directly at
it,” warned Shade, remembering Itti’s story.
“I’m not!” replied
Soul, her eyes on the form she thought she had just seen in the shadows.
“Oh, do feel free to
have a look; you’ll find it quite… captivating.” Spoke a crisp, unpleasant
voice from behind the Daemonslayers. The
voice spoke again, uttering the words of an arcane chant.
Shade did not even
look back to see the speaker. On pure instinct he leaped forward, grabbing Soul
on the way he pulled her to the ground outside the tunnel then rolled them both
to the right as a fireball seared through the air above and exploded out into
the cavern.
Unfortunately the dive
took the two down a staircase to the cavern floor. It was only a few metres but
they landed in a heap, bruised and winded, “Where the hells did he come from?” gasped Soul, wondering how the wizard had come
up so close behind without their noticing.
“Wizard, remember?”
replied Shade.
“Oh, yeah right.”
Pilan appeared at the top of the stairs, his long
red velvet robes billowing about him in the aftermath of his spell and a thin
trail of smoke twisting from a large red stone set in a ring he wore. His
silver-streaked black hair and beard placed him at around forty winters and his round, doughy face would have had a friendly
appearance were it not for his cold blue eyes and cruel expression.
Soul instantly hated the arrogance she could see in him, “Hey!” she yelled angrily, “I thought you guys’re meant to be under oath to protect the Empire, not enslave its people with some freaky daemon disease!”
“The Oath of Servitude? I got a better offer.” He replied, “You don’t know what a thankless existence it is, having your Art tethered and governed by the Council, consigned on a fools errand in this run down gods-forsaken berg. However Intoth himself saw fit to bestow the Sphere of Binding and its gift of power upon me.”
“Kelar seemed pretty well off for it,” Shade muttered under his breath, remembering
the filthy rich wizard of
“Only because his
father - windy old pig that he was - sat on the Council!” suddenly he paused, a
light of recognition dawning on his face, “You and that dragonkin upstairs! You’re the ones who broke into his library and wrecked his precious orrery! The Council are looking for you” he leered with a
ghastly smile. At their shocked expression he ‘reassured’ them in a mocking
tone, “but don’t worry, they won’t find you… there won’t be enough of your meddling
beings left to find!” He flung his arms above his head and murmured words of
magic to channel his power and focus it into a spell. The temperature suddenly
dropped and the water vapour in the air of Soul's breath condensed. Not so for
Shade though intent on his spell the wizard didn't notice this anomaly. A
shining, glittering swirl of frost began to form in the space between his
hands. Flecks of ice grew into wicked
shards as in a matter of heartbeats the spell soared in intensity. With a
sudden downward gesture Pilan hurled the ice storm
spell at the Daemonslayers,
"Get behind
me!" yelled Shade, motioning to Soul with has free arm for good measure as
he yanked the Fireblade from its scabbard. He willed
its magical flame to searing life and thrust it forward against the icy
onslaught. A hastily conjured ice spell was no match for the ancient magic from
which the sword was wrought. The instant its heat touched the ice storm the
frost dispelled in a hissing cloud of steam. Shade feared it would not be much
help if Pilan cast another fire spell at them but
that suddenly became the least of his worries.
A huge form erupted
from the shadows with a rumbling hiss and lumbered toward them across the
cavern. Fully ten foot tall at the shoulder with its even larger black and red
striped wings extended threateningly the manticore was a fearsome sight to
behold. Its thick fur was red like fresh blood while its wings, mane and the
shiny carapace of its scorpion tail were black as sable. A drip of gleaming
poison clung to its lethal sting, sparkling green as it crossed the pool of
moonlight on silent padding feet. Most striking of all was the beast’s face. It
was less human and more animal than the bestiaries had suggested but its
countenance still bore a startling resemblance to a man’s. As it came closer
they saw its blue eyes were glazed over with the familiar white of the
Infected, the once glossy coat dull and matted and its charge over the uneven
cavern floor was ungainly, giving the Daemonslayers plenty of time to dive out
of the way.
Briefly eluded by its
prey, the manticore skidded inelegantly to a halt at the cavern wall and turned
to seek them. It saw Shade making a beeline for the sphere and struck with its
tail. Despite its natural hunting skills being greatly dampened by the binding
spell, its tail strike was still lightning quick and dangerously accurate,
catching Shade across the arm as he skidded to one side, narrowly avoiding
being impaled by it. He swore and put a hand to the wound, the poison was not
magical and could do him no lasting damage, but the gash bloody well hurt. He
spun on his heel and slashed the Fireblade toward its
face and drove it back.
With a hollow growl it
withdrew its tail to strike again but Soul ran in front of its face and cast
the strongest light spell she could, her knees almost buckling with the energy
that flowed out of her.
For an instant the
cave was lit up, thrown into a world of brilliant white highlight and pitch black
shadow, casting in stark contrast the tableau of the lycan-fay facing off against the monster.
“Stop them!” screeched
the wizard, seeing Soul take advantage of the manticore’s flash-blindness and
sprint for the pedestal.
The manticore lumbered
forward again in Soul’s general direction and by a combination of fortune on
the monster’s part and pure bad luck on Shade’s, barrelled straight into him.
The impact knocked the fighter over and the manticore slammed its right forepaw
down onto his chest, breaking ribs and pinning him to the ground. His concentration
lost, the Fireblade’s flame went out but still he’d
kept his grip and fended off the snapping jaws, teeth gritted against the pain
and crushing weight from above.
Trying hard not to
look directly at her target, Soul approached the pedestal She could hear the wizard chanting again but
as she turned to face him her glance passed over the Sphere and the glance
turned to a stare. It wasn’t white; it was full of dancing, beautiful, horrible
colours. The rest of the world seemed to fall away leaving only the strains of
writhing energy that reached to her mind, drawing her in with promises she
could not later bring herself to remember, reaching with clawing tendrils into
her soul…except thanks to the archdemon Saragoth her soul was bound to another body. Denied its
intended target the dark power’s hold broke and she spun round in time to see
the wizard cast a brilliant red lightning bolt toward her. She sidestepped and
it seared through the air past her left ear to strike the top of the pedestal
instead.
The Sphere of Binding
shattered in an incandescent explosion of burning white light that ripped
outward through the cave, hurling Soul and the wizard to the ground.
The manticore howled
and reared backward from the painful, blinding light and searing energy that
ripped through the air as the orb’s eldritch enchantment tore itself asunder.
Suddenly free Shade scrambled away, coughing up blood from a punctured lung but
he could feel his ribs already mending. Soul had been thrown several metres by
the explosion and he ran to where, dazed, she was struggling to stand and
helped her to her feet.
“No!” the wizard
shrieked as the tiny, sparkling pieces of the Sphere rained down. He knelt,
scrabbling desperately to keep them together as they tinkled to the floor like
so many fairy bells, “Without the sphere the beast is free!” he wailed.
“And that’s a bad
thing?” Soul had not been impressed by the manticore when it was under Pilan’s control. But now as she saw its eyes clear to a
brilliant cobalt blue, glimmering with predatory intellect she was starting to
re-evaluate her opinion.
“It is when we’re the
nearest likely meal! Run!” yelled Shade, sprinting for the stairs as the beast,
with a terrible roar, suddenly sprang at them. Where before its movement had
been awkward and stiff like some automaton, now the manticore moved with fluid,
feline grace and deadly precision.
Without a second
thought, Soul ran after him, leaving the wizard to claw at the ground for the
shattered remains of his power. Launching herself up the stairs she skidded
under the portcullis just as Shade threw the lever. The chains clattered loudly
as the metal bars slammed down for the last time. Shade and Soul paused briefly
to turn and see as the charging manticore stopped in the centre of the chamber
to tower over the hapless wizard who only now realised the danger he was in.
Helpless, he turned toward the Daemonslayers, mouth open in a silent plea and
reached out in a desperate gesture for help. Coldly Shade turned and walked
away. After a moment’s pause, Soul did the same, wincing as the man’s dying
scream was drowned out by the manticore’s triumphant snarl.
*
Back in the upper
levels they found Blackjack and Darkclaw, now conscious, still in the Great
Hall. They were arguing over what had happened to them, remembering nothing
after the incident in the tavern.
“I guess they’re back
to normal then” Soul mused.
“And apparently none
the worse for wear,” Shade said, feeling a flood of relief to see their friends
recovered though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell them where they got the
cuts and bruises they were nursing.
They left the castle
and stole back through the town to retrieve their mounts. The thick fog had
lifted to reveal some sense of the scale of destruction the unnatural plague
had brought, though the full cost would not be counted until the suns rose.
Those too far gone with the sickness to recover lay dead where they had fallen
when the spell was broken. Others wandered about bewildered and terrified, even
more so when they saw the Daemonslayers and assassin. Any townsfolk they
encountered hurried fearfully away. Their haunted, frightened eyes and hurried
retreats made the companions quicken their own pace, sensing it was only a
matter of time before these people started looking for someone to blame for
these terrible happenings and strangers in town, particularly of races far
removed from human, could make an ideal scapegoat in the irrational panic dawn
and first light's revelations would bring.
"If you want to
know a thankless task, try being a Daemonslayer" Shade observed his
expression dour.
"Speaking of
which, we have to change our route. If the Wizards High Council is looking for
us then now isn't the time to chance crossing the Empire. We'll have to take the long way home." Blackjack spoke up for the first
time since they'd left the castle - his mood humourless and not just due to the
throbbing headache emanating from the bruising on the side of his head. The
knowledge that he had been under someone else’s control stirred dark feelings
and worse memories.
There was a chorus of
groans and not without good reason. The quickest way back to Uth Nagor would have been to
cross through the heart of the Empire, but the Daemonslayers did not make for
an inconspicious group and although they could rely
on a glamour to hide Blackjack and Knightmare's more 'exotic' appearances, this might not trick any magic users looking for
them. Now they were going to have to take the long road south through the
Renegade Kingdoms, skirt east below the southern borders of the Desert of
Shifting Sand, somehow find a crossing point across the vast Wild Horse Canyon
then travel up through the Greater Wilds. To avoid the lonely mountains known
as the Hags, an enchanted place where the veils between the material plane and
the realm of the Fay were blurred together, giving rise to fantastical tales of
entire armies vanishing in a single night, they would need to divert even
further east across the
"Darkclaw, no
one knows you're linked to us. Take word to Barlone, tell him what's
happened to his extended Clan here."
The assassin nodded. Alone
he could easily slip into the invisible shadow-world of his clandestine
profession though he felt bad about leaving his friends to such a long and
doubtless dangerous journey.
A shared sense of
relief flowed through the group as they passed the outer wall and headed to the
derelict they had ‘borrowed’ as a stable.
Soul had been leading
the way but paused and stared back, wondering how the poor survivors would ever
pick up the pieces of their decimated lives. She doubted they would even
understand what had happened to them. Blackjack clapped her on the shoulder as
he walked past, “It’s not our problem, Meccha.
They’ll get over it, humans usually do. It’s enough that you and Shade freed
them – us!” he jerked a thumb at himself then at Darkclaw, “Thanks, by the
way.” He added, surprisingly without the grudging tone in which he usually
expressed gratitude (on those rare occasions that he did!).
“Any time,” she smiled
weakly then prepared with the others to hit the road. Even though they were
still muddy and exhausted, they had no desire to remain in sight of that
ravaged town and hoped the dawn would find them a long way distant. Maybe
tomorrow would be better.
Fin.
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All concepts and characters (c) I.Davis. Meccha/Soul (c) E.Lai
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Comments, questions, whatever, can be addressed to me at the www.NecroDragon.com forum.