The Cursed Crown

by Matthew S. Cox

  Oona raised a hand toward him. Blue light formed at her fingertips. A matching light appeared in front of his forehead. Beowyn’s arms stilled. Seconds later, his eyes fluttered open. He looked around at the hallway, bowed his head, and let out a relieved sigh.

  “Are you all right?” asked Kitlyn.

  “I am now. Trick of the mind.” He attempted the manliest sniffle possible, then wiped his face.

  “If you need to talk about anything, I’m here.” Oona offered a reassuring smile. “But know it was only a lie. Deception.”

  “Aye.” Beowyn nodded. “Kept seeing the innocent bein’ overrun with fiends or thieves or some such… too slow to help any of them.”

  Isha looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time.

  “There’s a door.” Beowyn pointed. “Let us move. I wish to leave this place as soon as we are able.”

  “Careful.” Oona grabbed Kitlyn’s arm. “There’s a trap. You’ll fall into the floor.”

  Kitlyn turned to face back the way they had been walking. Four skeletons lay on the ground a short distance ahead, covered in dust and cobwebs. Spiders as big as walnuts scurried away from Oona’s light, seeking shelter within skulls or under the remnants of armor. The hallway ended a short distance beyond them at an onyx slab door covered in runes.

  “Those poor sots never broke out of whatever that was.” Beowyn cringed. “Must have starved on their feet.”

  Kitlyn stepped carefully around the bones, approaching the door. She didn’t sense any voids in the ground below her, though the walls on either side contained a complex series of metal rods and gears. Since she couldn’t make any sense of the mechanism, she assumed it magical in nature, something to do with the runes on the door.

  “That looks a right bit complicated.” Beowyn scratched his head.

  Oona grinned. “It’s not complicated.”

  “Actually, it is.” Kitlyn pointed at the wall. “Lots of gears and stuff.”

  “So…” Oona glanced at her.

  With a grin, Kitlyn sent her magic into the wall. The doorjamb softened and shrank from the onyx slab. Once only the metal locking bars supported its weight, she raised her leg and shoved the door with her foot. It fell inward, its weight bending the metal, and collapsed with a loud whump, one pale dusty footprint at its center.

  “The mechanism is complicated… opening it isn’t.”

  33

  The Path of Torment

  Oona

  Oona followed the others over the fallen door into a small alcove. A hollow in the wall straight in front of them held shelves of dusty books. To the left, an archway led to a much larger room littered with hanging cages, torture racks, metal brassieres filled with coal, and an array of other ghastly spiked contraptions Oona had no names for.

  “This is not a fun place.” Isha gazed up at a skeletal leg dangling from an overhead cage.

  “All we need to do here is find a crown.” Kitlyn walked forward, heading for a big door at the opposite side of the room. “But I don’t think he’d keep it in here.”

  Beowyn and Isha drew their blades, moving up to follow Kitlyn close on either side.

  A sudden, powerful sense of dread foreboding fell like icy water down Oona’s back.

  “Wait!” she shouted.

  Everyone stopped.

  Living darkness swam out of the corners of the room, gathering in a mass a few paces in front of Kitlyn. The growing pillar of shadow filled out into the shape of an enormous male humanoid that towered to a height of nine feet, its jet black skin gleaming like polished obsidian. Large orange eyes glowed from a bestial face that mixed traits of human, pig, and jackal. Great leathery wings spread out from its back, tipped with wicked horns at the bend. The creature’s muscles swelled to ludicrous proportions, especially arms that made Beowyn’s thighs appear tiny.

  Oona cringed at its nakedness. Though she had never before laid eyes on a nude man, she highly suspected the tiny horns and spikes didn’t belong there. What at first she thought to be coarse hair partially obscuring its sex moved—a legion of clinging insects. She swooned back, almost at the edge of vomiting.

  Kitlyn growled. A stone spire lanced up from the floor and rammed into the demon’s chest. The massive creature barely moved, the spire breaking aside as easily as if she’d stabbed an icicle into the castle wall.

  Deep, resonant laughter filled the room. It lowered its gaze to Kitlyn.

  Beowyn and Isha charged at it. Isha reached it first. The demon disregarded her attack, allowing her sword to rake across its abdomen before striking her with a backhand that launched her twenty feet sliding. She crashed into an empty cage with enough force to bend the slats. Beowyn rounded his greatsword in an overhead cleave, but the demon caught the blade, laughed, and threw the giant of a man aside like a toy. He slapped into the wall on the other side of the room halfway to the ceiling and fell straight down on his chest, his weapon ringing against the stone with a loud clang a few feet away from him.

  Kitlyn called another spire. The stone spear broke to splinters, the demon walking through it.

  Overcome with indignant rage, Oona ran forward and put herself between the demon and Kitlyn.

  “Oona!” Kitlyn grabbed her from behind, trying to drag her back.

  “By the light of Lord Lucen, you have no hold upon this world!” She drew her little orb around and held it in both hands above her head.

  The glow flickered from blue to pure white.

  Beowyn moaned and pushed himself up to kneel.

  Roaring, the demon leaned forward, but appeared unable to move closer, its bare feet sliding over the smooth stone, clawed toenails scraping gouges.

  “Foul minion of the Pit, in Lucen’s name be gone!” Oona shouted in a furious tone Kitlyn had never before heard from her, far different from the petulant anger of a spoiled child. She stepped toward the demon and thrust her hands out, hurling the blinding orb at it. “You have no power to stand against the light of purity!”

  The demon shrank back, the thin membranes of its wings burning away like paper held to a candle. Holes grew and merged until only bare spars remained. Snarling, the demon took another step away from the approaching ball of light. Oona advanced on it, her arms still raised. The orb shimmered, intensifying to the point it became painful to look directly at.

  Kitlyn hurried over to Isha and pulled her away from the crumpled cage she’d crashed into. The woman limped to her feet, favoring her right side.

  Roaring in agony, the demon fell to one knee. Its wings disintegrated. Desperate, it made a feeble claw swipe at her, but the arm disintegrated to the elbow, a vaporous stump passing within inches of Oona’s face.

  She spread her hands out to the sides in a sweeping gesture before bringing them together in front of herself. A ray of blue-white energy shot forth from her fingers and pierced the demon’s chest, striking the wall behind it.

  With a final belabored groan, the massive fiend fell like a rain of liquid shadows. Oona guided her light orb down near the floor until the black puddle had fully evaporated.

  Beowyn bowed his head. “Lucen’s grace be upon us.”

  “Praise Lucen,” whispered Isha, also bowing her head.

  Kitlyn stared in awe at Oona. “Lucen guides us.”

  “And in his name we shall drive every last fiend back to the Pit.” Oona bowed her head. A moment later, she looked up and turned to face the others. “The fiend is gone.”

  The once-again-blue light ball glided down and settled into an orbit around them, its little eye spots tilted in a way that made it appear to be smiling.

  “Isha’s hurt.” Kitlyn helped the woman over to where Oona stood.

  Within a second of looking at her, Oona knew the woman had suffered a dislocated shoulder and several broken ribs. She rested her hand over the break, and concentrated on her request that Orien send his aid. In time with the golden light appearing, a disconcerting crunch came from Isha’s chest.

  “Ngh,” groaned Is
ha, hanging on Kitlyn.

  Oona moved her hands up to the shoulder, invoking her magic. A soft pop followed. Isha’s unconscious weight pulled Kitlyn to the ground.

  Beowyn rushed over. “What happened?”

  “I believe she fainted from pain.” Oona crouched and rested her hand on Isha’s cheek. “Are you hurt?”

  “Just my pride.” Beowyn leaned on his sword. “Wasn’t ready for anything that strong.”

  “A true demon.” Oona patted Isha’s cheek until she came to. “Probably a Pit Archon.”

  Kitlyn gasped.

  “That’s a bit much for the likes of us.” Beowyn rolled his left shoulder.

  Isha woke about half a minute later with a cough. “Thank you, highness.”

  “Praise Orien.” Oona stood and looked at Beowyn. “And a demon’s strength means nothing to Lucen.”

  Kitlyn stared at her with an odd mixture of confusion and love.

  “What?”

  “I’m having a little trouble believing the same girl who hid under her blanket from an assassin turned into that radiantly confident figure of light who stared down a demon almost twice her height.”

  Oona’s cheeks warmed with blush. “With Lucen guiding me, I am not afraid of demons. Assassins are much scarier. And spiders. But I’m not as afraid of spiders as I used to be when I was small.”

  Beowyn raised a finger. “Spiders are scary.”

  “You are afraid of spiders?” Kitlyn blinked at him.

  “Screams like a four-year-old girl.” Isha chuckled. “One crawled onto his leg at the camp when he squatted ta unburden himself o’ the prior night’s dinner.”

  Beowyn feigned shock. He grabbed Isha in a playful headlock. “I’ll show ya four-year-old…”

  “Ow.” Isha gasped.

  He froze, then gingerly eased her back to her feet. “Sorry. Forgot.”

  “It’s all right.” She rubbed her side. “Merely a bit of soreness, praise Orien.”

  Kitlyn stepped around the area where the demon melted despite the floor appearing clean, and headed for the door at the far end of the torture room. Oona sensed no taint in the stone, so she went over it.

  The door opened into a corridor that extended off in two directions with multiple branching passages on both sides. Other than the occasional tall vase or dusty bench, it appeared the lich lacked in interior decorating skills.

  Oona looked left and right. “It’s like a maze.”

  “Give me a moment.” Kitlyn closed her eyes and stood in silence for a short while before proceeding onward, her eyes still shut. “Warn me if I’m going to walk into something.”

  “You see it?” asked Oona.

  “There’s a large chamber to the left. Feels like a library. Lots of tall stone shelves. Most of the rooms in here are small.”

  Isha hurried over in front of Kitlyn, blade drawn, on guard for threats. Whenever she reached an intersection, she paused and waited for Kitlyn to pick a direction, then moved in front again. Oona followed with a hand on Kitlyn’s shoulder. Beowyn brought up the rear, clutching his blade in both hands while keeping most of his attention to the rear in case anything tried to sneak up on them.

  Kitlyn navigated a series of turns and long corridors as if looking at a map only she could see. Oona cringed at the mostly featureless hallways, pale grey in the light of her orb. Already, she felt hopelessly lost.

  Glowing spectral hands reached out from the walls, but burned away to mist as soon as they entered the radiant light. Isha paled at the sight of it, for the first time appearing truly frightened. However, her fear showed mostly in her wide-eyed stare, her hands not shaking nor her posture weakened. The spirit in the wall tailed them, constantly testing its ability to withstand the light.

  Some minutes later, Kitlyn took a right turn into a short hallway that led to a fancy pair of double doors, together no wider than a normal single door. A glowing arcane pattern of silver light covered the upper half, inscribed within a circle. She reached toward it.

  “Be wary, that looks like a glyph.” Beowyn pointed his sword at the door.

  “Glyph?” Kitlyn hesitated, her fingers inches from contact.

  “Ran into a few of them when we hit enemy camps.” He made an explosion gesture. “They do magic if you disturb them. Never saw one this big before though.”

  Kitlyn backed up. “I’m starting to suspect this lich doesn’t want guests.”

  A nervous laugh came from Isha.

  Oona glanced at luminous fingers swiping at them from the wall. Hmm. She hurried back a few steps, pulling the light with her before dimming it to almost off. The faint fist-sized circle hovered next to her, its eye spots tilting upward in confusion.

  “Gah!” cried Kitlyn in the dark. “Oona? Are you okay?”

  The glowing apparition of a cloaked figure glided out of the wall. Rather than legs, the tatters of its cloak trailed off into a wispy tendril of spiritual energy. Beowyn and Isha both slashed at it, though their blades didn’t appear to do anything. The spirit reached a clawed hand toward Kitlyn, but before it could touch her, Oona commanded the orb back to full brightness.

  Shrieking a keening wail, the phantom recoiled directly away from her, crossing its arms in a defensive gesture. The instant it attempted to pass through the glyphed door, a blinding cascade of lightning erupted in a sizzling crackle that ended in an explosion of hot, transparent slime. Oona coughed on the stink of ozone and burned dust.

  The formerly-glowing lines on the door had turned black and smoking.

  Beowyn, who bore the brunt of the slime blast, turned to face her, dripping head-to-boot in a thick layer of glistening, clear goo. “May I ask what we just witnessed?”

  Kitlyn cringed, slinging the same ooze off her arms. “I believe, the destruction of a malign spirit… and the glyph.”

  “Is this stuff dangerous?” Isha raked her hands down her arms, scraping slime away.

  “No, merely disgusting.” Oona flashed a weak smile, as she’d been standing far enough away to have avoided the spatter.

  Beowyn chuckled, shaking his head. He swiped his hands at his face to clear his eyes, but otherwise ignored the residue dripping off him. The narrow twin doors opened at the behest of his boot. He led the way into a huge rectangular room with a two-story vaulted ceiling. Twenty massive bookshelves lined both sides of a central aisle, all packed with as much dust as books. Random baubles such as skulls, candles, small boxes, bottles, and unrecognizable metal contraptions also littered the shelves.

  This place looks familiar. Like I’ve been here before. She gazed around at the shelves, remembering a man in a black cloak walking among them. The vision!

  “Search for anything that looks like a crown.” Kitlyn hurried forward.

  “Be careful,” whispered Oona. “He’s close. I’ve seen this place before. Lucen gave me a vision of it.”

  They split up, dividing the great room into quarters. Oona dared not touch anything, though upon sensing bad feelings from a book bound in black leather, she drew her light close to examine it. The tome burst into dark crimson flames.

  She narrowed her eyes, focusing Lucen’s wrath on the demonic writings until nothing remained of it but ash. One after the next, she made her way around the shelves, incinerating fourteen more books until she became aware of eyes staring at her.

  Kitlyn, Beowyn, and Isha stood at the end of the shelf, giving her looks as though she’d belched in public.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Oona.

  “What are you doing?” Kitlyn gestured at a pile of ashes.

  “Oh. Demonic books. I can’t leave them here.”

  The look of confusion on Kitlyn’s face became understanding. “Oh. The crown isn’t in this room. We’re close to another large chamber.”

  “Let’s hope it’s in there. It’ll take us days to search all the little rooms.” Isha faced to the right and headed off.

  Oona glanced around, sensed nothing else of particular evil, and followed. Kitlyn walk
ed straight toward a large double door at the opposite end of the library from where they entered. At the halfway point, a giant pedestal on the left supported a book four feet tall and about a foot thick. Recognizable human face patterns suggested the dark black leather binding it had been taken from people.

  Horrified—and positive it radiated demonic energy—Oona raised her arms and beckoned Lucen’s light. Her beam melted a hole all the way through the tome in an instant. The giant book burst into flames and flipped into the air, flapping its covers like a bird. Emitting a shriek, it flew in circles, but didn’t climb too far before the fire overwhelmed it and it fell to the ground with a loud slam. Seconds after fire consumed it, several indistinct spirit forms appeared around it, bowed in thanks, and faded.

  Kitlyn, Beowyn, and Isha, all jumped away, swords drawn and pointed at it.

  Answering screeches came from everywhere. Hundreds of normal sized books leapt off the shelves, filling the air with flapping pages and demonic wails. The tomes hurled themselves at everyone, more annoying than deadly, but a few had enough heft to do damage.

  “Go!” shouted Kitlyn while slashing a diving book in half before it could hit her in the face.

  Oona raised her arms to guard her head, emitting grunts and squeaks under the pelting coming from every direction. Isha cut several down before taking a hard bonk to the side of the head that knocked her over. Another hit Beowyn in the back of the head, but stopped cold, not moving him at all. He grabbed it, pulled it around in front, and ripped the squirming book in half. The instant it came apart, a flash of sickly lime green light blasted out and the pages ceased moving. With a grunt, he tossed each half aside.

  Isha rolled upright and sliced another passing book out of the air.

  A giant tome slammed into Oona’s back, knocking her flat on her chest, unable to breathe. Beowyn leapt after it, but his huge sword rounded too slow and missed by an inch. A low-flying one crashed into Kitlyn’s shins, taking her off her feet. She landed as if doing a push up, and leapt into a sprint.