The Monster at the End of Its Road: Gaslamp Faeries Series, Book 3

by Ren Ryder

  Larz, another hunter I knew from the past, said, “C’mon boss, you know I hate digging graves. We can chop him up into pieces and feed what’s left of him to the dogs.”

  “Alright, let’s get this done so we can have a drink. Soften him up for us Larz.”

  Larz dropped his raised hand, then dropped it. “Fire!”

  Chapter Nine

  Nine hunters raised their flintlock pistols, and on Larz’s command, shot a hail of bullets straight at the spot I was standing. Was being the operative word. I leapt straight up twenty meters into the sky and seemed to hang suspended as I reached the zenith of my jump.

  With cold precision, I pulsed mana through my body and said, “Fehu.”

  Flames exploded from the tree trunks etched with the rune, and a sea of fire consumed the region below me. Tongues of flame licked the now-screaming hunters, lighting them aflame and making human torches of them.

  “Woah, how’d you do that?! Tell me, tell me!” Bell pounded her fists against my shoulder.

  I summoned a dense platform of wind beneath my feet to land on in the sky ten meters above the chaos. “Bell.”

  Bell’s golden eyes had an ominous glow to them. “My turn!”

  Bell cackled as she whipped up cyclones of wind, spurring the fire to greater heights.

  Apple trees snapped and popped as intense heat consumed the water flowing through them and started to burn a whole swath of trees to a crisp. A firestorm raged through the apple orchard. Losing coordination and running in fear, most of the hunters would have broke ranks, but they were walled in on all sides by fire.

  “Hold, hold I say!” Graf barked.

  “I’m going in, clear the way for me,” I told Bell.

  “You got it!” Bell’s words overflowed with malice.

  Banishing my platform, I fell thirty feet to the ground and landed in a crouch. Bell winged to my side and summoned a blast of wind that pushed back the fire to the outskirts of the perimeter. We were in the dead middle of the blaze with an encircling fire trapping the hunters inside with us.

  The air was dry as a parched desert.

  Those least effected by my trap were the hunters positioned closer inside the circle, those carrying bladed weapons. Around seven of them looked unscathed, including Wendy and lieutenant Graf. Not a single one of them had thrown down their weapons, rather they looked incensed as they closed in for a fight.

  Graf surveyed the destruction around him, impassive. “Nice trick, but is that all ya got?”

  Tugging my hand-and-a-half sword out of its sheath, I pointed it one-handed at Graf. “Let’s finish this.”

  Wendy charged ahead of Graf’s orders, pulling three of her compatriots in with her. The spear wielders menaced me from just outside my range while Wendy got in close with twin short swords to keep me occupied. I parried her flurry of attacks with my sword while weaving in and out of the way of spear thrusts.

  On my backswing I cleaved through the wooden haft of a spear and spun around to throw a roundhouse kick to the head of another hunter. Wendy took the initiative to cut two deep gashes down my back with her short swords, and I groaned as I landed back on my feet. My cloak writhed as blood soaked my shirt and dripped down my back.

  Wendy licked the blood off her blades, then her eyes went bloodshot and her veins turned black. Fresh blood magic filled the air, turning my stomach.

  Wendy moaned in obvious pleasure. “Mmm, thas good stuff. You been keeping this all to yourself? Shame, that is.”

  Bell butted in. “Hey, that’s mine! Kal’s blood belongs to me! Give it back!” Bell buzzed angrily about the blood-empowered hunter, tossing daggers of wind that the woman evaded with supernatural speed.

  The two remaining spear-wielders were joined by the rest of the hunters, making five attackers in total. They circled me like a pack of dogs and attacked together to bring me down. As they moved in, Bell chased Wendy relentlessly around the battleground, fully occupying the powerful huntress.

  Feeding mana into my aura, I glowed bright as my mana skin took hold, enforcing my body. With a sharp twist of my hips, I spun my blade in an arcing semicircle, shattering blades and reducing spears to splinters. Without letting up I rushed into a hunter's personal space, knocking his teeth out with the hilt of my sword.

  While they were all reeling from my consecutive attacks, I slid across the soil between two sword-bearers, slashing mercilessly into the trunk of one hunter’s body. In a spray of blood the man thunked to the ground, his torso half-detached from his body. One of Bell’s wind daggers went wild and thunked home into the eye socket of another hunter.

  Amidst all this, the weaponless hunter tackled me at the knees, throwing me off balance and making me fall to the ground. The swordsman right above me brought his weapon crashing down on me, and I struggled to get my sword out in front of it to stop the blade from cutting my head off.

  Sparks flew and metal rang as our blades collided, and the force of the blow made me lose grip on my sword. I kicked my legs out and flung myself back onto my feet, leaving my sword lying in the dirt. Moving too fast for the man to react, I got inside the swordsman’s guard and flung my cloak atop him. My cloak wriggled, moving like a living thing as it devoured the hapless man.

  I stomped on the neck of the weaponless hunter, feeling his spine crunch beneath my boot. Pushing down a sudden desire to puke, I crouched low and scooped up my sword. My senses screamed danger as I felt somebody moving in my blind spot.

  With both hands on my sword-hilt, I swung my blade in a mighty blow at the hunter rushing me from behind. There was no grace of fluidity to my motions, just pure wrathful destruction. I cleaved straight through the man’s collarbone and left my sword sticking out of his chest as he fell sideways to the ground.

  The two weaponless hunters shared a look, then bolted off without fighting. I didn’t bother giving chase. I had no doubt the fire consuming the apple orchard would devour them before they escaped.

  Bell was fighting toe-to-toe with Wendy, the blood-crazed huntress. The huntress’s skin was turning black and her skin was charred, but she looked all the more fierce for it. Bell was holding her own against Wendy’s twin short swords, flying between the deadly blades with a ferocious grin on her face.

  Loud and shrill, Graf whistled. “You got spunk, I’ll give ya that. But it ain’t mean nothing to my beauties.” Graf whistled again.

  I jerked my head to the side as I sensed the familiar swirling vortexes of warped, stitched-together entities collide on the apple orchard. Massive winged hounds flew onto the battlefield, their teeth snapping and mouths drooling in anticipating of a meal. All together they howled in unison, marking the beginning of their hunt.

  All sorts of breeds of dog had been experimented on, bloated in size by magic and adorned with wings of various kinds of birds. Their spiky, shaggy fur coats looked armor-tough. The average hound standing on all four paws reached up to the middle of my chest. Each had a wingspan of at least twelve feet, which by some magic seemed able to carry their heavy bodies through the sky.

  Yipping and growling, the pack corralled me into a small safe space, running circles around me, nipping at my heels but not yet committing to an attack. I flinched this way and that, waving my sword to dissuade any one hound from attacking.

  Bell was occupied with her fight against Wendy, and although I was sure she would help me if asked, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to distract her. My sylph companion was tossing out wind workings as fast as she could make them, and the huntress was beginning to slow down from the many superficial wounds she’d accumulated. Still, the blood-crazed huntress seemed unfazed by her injuries and fought on like she was possessed.

  Graf crossed his arms over his chest and, deep from his belly, he laughed. “I don’t know nothin about magic, but I know how to make use of it. Dogs, dogs can be trained no matter the breed, ya see. How ya like my babies?”

  “Duke Maddox is responsible for unleashing the monsters on the city, isn�
�t he?” I asked.

  Graf scowled. “What’s it matter to you who’s responsible? You’re going to die.”

  “Where’s the lab? Is it in the Under?” I asked, referencing the layers of catacombs beneath the streets of New London.

  Graf spat. “Ain’t no reason for me to tell you nothin. I been waiting a long time to get revenge on ya for my gimp leg, so this here is my lucky day. Any last words, Specter?”

  Drawing off my source like breathing in a huge lungful of air, I said, “I’m going to put these tortured animals to sleep, and then, one way or another, you’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

  “Ooh, scary. Those be big words for a man with an urban legend built on false rumors and a disappearing act,” Graf scoffed. “Your party tricks aren’t up to the task.”

  I narrowed my eyes and assumed a fighting stance. “We’ll see about that.”

  “Sick ‘em boys,” Graf said, then whistled.

  On Graf’s command, the pack started their coordinated attack while they continued herding me. Together the hounds moved like one giant, many-headed beast. One hound would nip at my heels from behind while another would charge me head-on. Several hounds took to the air to swoop down on me at the same instant I was occupied with their brothers and sisters on land.

  Purplish-black blood sprayed into the air as I accumulated a host of bite wounds faster than my body could heal them. My achilles tendons were both shredded, and my chest was full of deep slashes inflicted by the pack’s razor sharp claws. Waving my sword like a madman, I hobbled around to fend off the worst charges while receiving the death of a thousand razors from all sides.

  Graf was laughing at my expense, patiently watching over my demise like a reaper.

  The sword in my hands felt like a broken tooth. I wriggled it around, but it was useless as it was.

  The strength of a pack wasn’t the alpha, it was the coordinated effort of many moving parts that enabled them to take down bigger, stronger foes. Even with my mana skin, I was losing ground. It wouldn’t be long before I was too weak to fight back, and that’s when the curtain would fall on my story. I needed to disrupt their movements to change the tide.

  Adrenaline coursed through my body as my heartbeat skyrocketed. My sparkling four-foot sword inlaid with an intricate forest scene depicted in gold filigree glowed silver as I fed mana into it. Sharp, cutting winds coalesced around the blade. Bloody and savage, I grinned at the pack of patchwork monsters.

  I beckoned with one hand to the wolves surrounding me. “Come get some.”

  A hound dove down from the sky and I slashed at it on reflex, cleaving through one of its wings and sending it crashing to the earth. One of its pack rushed in from behind to wrap its jaws around my calf, stopping me from landing a finishing blow. Cursing, I swept my blade behind me, lopping the head clean off the hound latched onto my leg.

  Two-handed, I stabbed my sword straight into the heaving chest of the fallen hound in front of me, putting it out of its misery. The death of two of their brethren stirred the pack into a frenzy. Before I could retrieve my sword, a brownish-red hound tackled me to the ground. I managed to get my right forearm between the snapping jaws reaching for my neck, sacrificing the arm instead.

  With my strength flagging and taken to the ground, the pack started howling and moved all at once to finish me. Grimacing through the pain as the hounds bore down on me, I pushed the waiting power I’d brought to bear into the sigil on my chest.

  “Down, doggies.”

  A shockwave of wind ripped out from my body. The pack was sent tumbling away from me, leaving just the solitary hound latched onto my forearm like a dog with a bone. I punched the chimera on its head over and over again, until its face was a ruined mess and its eyes turned to goop. It didn’t let go of me even in death. I had to pry its jaws off me with my fingers.

  When I stood, the remains of the pack had already recovered. The hounds were growling at me now, filled with rage and bloodlust. Under their watchful gaze, I limped over to the hound speared through with my sword and pulled it free.

  I was having trouble clenching the fingers of my right hand around my sword hilt, and my two-handed grip was slippery with blood.

  “What’re you doing! Get him, go on, git!” Graf raged at the motionless hounds, striking one upside the head as it cowered beneath his wrath.

  Driving my sword into the ground and leaning on it like a walking stick, I chuckled and said, “So much for all that training.”

  Graf turned on me with fury in his eyes. “Watch close you stupid mutts, I’ll show you how to finish wounded prey.”

  Graf drew a broadsword from the sheathe strapped to his back. His muscles rippled as he went through a few practice swings. The hunter kicked a cowering hound in the face and stomped towards me with murder in his eyes.

  I was tired, weak from blood loss, and covered in wounds, but I grinned. “Finally getting your hands dirty?”

  Graf dragged one of his hands through a puddle of my blood and drew a streak across his face with it. Veins started to pop out all over his body, and his eyes turned bloodshot. Dark power rolled off the hunter in waves as his blood magic took hold.

  Graf shook with laughter. “I’ve killed more than you have years, boy. Your life is a drop in the bucket. Come, let me show you.”

  From Graf’s perspective it’d been almost two decades since I’d fought him, when he was just a run-of-the-mill hunter. That was before I returned from my brief stint in the Otherworld to find myself on the wrong side of a time distortion. I was sure he’d grown as a fighter since then, but it didn’t matter. This man was a signpost on my journey in the fight against Ouroboros, and if I faltered here, I’d never make it to my goal.

  Graf charged forward with his broadsword raised high. I brought my sword up to meet a brutal slash aimed at my head. The clash of our blades sent sparks flying and the force of it sent both of us reeling backwards to regain our balance.

  My mana skin stuttered and I felt my reinforced strength begin to flag, but Graf gave me no chance to renew the magical reinforcement. He drove me across the clearing with a series of killing blows that kept me from doing anything besides frantically defending myself.

  My arms burned, the muscles of my forearms spasmed from overuse, and my feet dragged in the dirt. “Well,” I panted, “you’re strong, I’ll give you that. But I thought you were going to finish me?” I rasped. “Or was that all bluster?”

  Lieutenant Graf, an old hand amongst the Ouroboros hunters, was fully in his element in the thick of battle, powered up by the blood magic they wielded like a whip to kill and enslave the supernatural. He was a merciless, deadly fighter, equal to any of the challenges I’d faced in the Otherworld. But none of that mattered.

  I flooded my sword with mana, and as it filled with silvery power, I compressed the unruly winds tight against the blade. The next time Graf swung his broadsword at me, I sliced clean through his blade, leaving nothing but a nub in his hands. Before he could change tactics, I tackled Graf to the ground and wrapped my hands around his thick neck.

  I started choking the life out of the man before I knew what I was doing, and only let up when I saw the remains of the pack of winged hounds mere inches from my face. Graf choked and gasped for air when I let up the pressure on his neck, barely holding onto consciousness.

  I stared down the snarling hounds. “Stay back, or I’ll kill him.”

  Graf laid spreadeagled on the ground, spent, his countenance grim. “I ain’t gonna tell you nothin, so you might as well get on with it.”

  “I need to know where the lab is, Graf. Tell me and I’ll consider letting you go.”

  Graf slapped the ground with his meaty hands. “Pfft— hah! What a joke. Even if that wasn’t a baldfaced lie, Ouroboros would see me dead for snitching.” The lieutenant looked resigned to his fate, unwilling to part with the last of his pride. “Eat me.”

  “What?” I asked, taken aback.

  “Go on, EAT ME!” G
raf roared.

  All at once, the remains of the pack of winged hounds, all four of them, dogpiled on top of Graf. I barely scrambled out of the way in time to avoid being buried underneath that pile of claw, bone, and fur. I couldn’t see anything, and all I heard was the ripping and tearing of flesh and cracking of bone. When it was all over, there was little left of the hunter besides bits of bone and flesh.

  I pounded my fist against the uncaring earth, frustrated more at the loss of information than another death. Was I becoming callous?

  The biggest hound, the alpha by the looks of him, turned its glowing red eyes on me. It growled deep in its chest, a challenge. Then, right before it pounced, another of its pack snapped its jaws shut on his neck. The alpha yipped and writhed, but the gray-furred beast that’d challenged the pack leader held tight until the last breath was gone from their former leader.

  I hobbled over to my sword while the three hounds stood silent sentry over me. Other than to follow me with their eyes, the hounds didn’t move a muscle while I grabbed my weapon. I paced back over to the three hounds and raised my sword above my head to deliver a killing blow.

  The gray-furred hound that’d challenged the alpha on my behalf rolled onto its back and exposed its belly to me. The hound tucked its wings tight against its body and bent back its neck to give me a clear shot at its jugular. I wavered and dropped my sword to my side.

  I sighed. “What am I supposed to do with you? I can’t just let you loose on New London. That would make me as bad as Ouroboros.”

  Leaving that problem for later, I sheathed my sword and cast my attention about the fiery battleground. It was getting hard to breathe, and the fire was burning so hot by this point that I was sure it would consume the entire orchard.

  “Bell!” I called out to my sylph companion. “Bell, where are you?”

  There were bodies strewn all over like grotesque, fleshy monuments to a death god, and nobody alive that I could see. I paced over to my cloak, which was wrapped tight around the body of a hunter it’d suffocated to death. Shaking it out, I threw the writhing material over my shoulders and clasped it tight around my neck. I patted it a few times, and that seemed to calm it down.