by Hondo Jinx
As Dr. Lynch’s eyes settled on them, Dan froze in place, paralyzed with primal fear, like a rabbit frozen by the cry of a diving hawk. His muscles seized. His eyes bulged, and his sphincter slammed shut. His heart hammered and lurched in his chest like a wild beast trapped in a cage. A low moan rose involuntarily from his throat.
His legs crouched, ready to sprint away, ignoring his brain, which, fear-struck though it was, screamed at his body to stand and fight. But his legs backpedaled, carrying him several steps toward the tunnel.
No! he thought. Stand and fight!
But his body was in full revolt, a terrified animal eager to bolt away.
Dr. Lynch swept her arm through the air, and suddenly Dan could see himself and his party members. Holly and Nadia had retreated as well and both looked to be fighting the same losing battle as Dan.
Dozens of acolytes howled with fury, leapt down off the stage, and charged, their hands filled with Slivers of Darkness.
Then, with a loud crack, a bolt of lightning jumped from Talia’s hand and slammed into Dr. Lynch with an explosion of light and sparks.
The necromancer disappeared in the flash. Acolytes who had been standing near her spun away through the air, their dark cloaks smoldering.
Dan roared and shook like a dog coming out of an icy lake, shedding the unnatural fear that had been upon him.
“With us, barbarian!” Kord shouted, waddling after Broadus, who charged straight at the onrushing wall of acolytes, including the giant palanquin bearers.
Dan hurried after them, hoping against hope that Talia’s lightning bolt had finished the nefarious necromancer.
Then Dr. Lynch rose, stiff as a board, once more into a standing position, her red eyes flashing above a terrible, inhuman smile.
Dan charged on, undaunted.
The sorcerous fear that had gripped him was gone, broken by Talia’s attack. Now, Dan had returned to himself, and he would happily die and burn in Hades with a broken back before he would abandon his friends.
“Amusing,” Dr. Lynch said. Her skeletal arm lifted with superhuman speed, and a rope of black liquid rushed from her finger and struck Talia.
The raven-haired sorceress screamed in terror and raised her arms defensively. The black liquid struck her hand, enveloped it, and corkscrewed up her arm. Beneath the black coil, Talia’s arm shriveled instantly, the flesh shrinking away, the skin cracking and peeling away like shed snakeskin.
Talia wailed in pain and terror.
Reaching her shoulder, the devastating black vine split into a dozen tendrils, which spiderwebbed across her torso, wound up her neck, and plunged into her screaming mouth, her nostrils, her ears, and her eyes, silencing her, ending her, leaving in her place a rigid mummy in red robes.
All this in a single second.
Dr. Lynch’s skull-like head rocked back, her bony jaws parted, and horrible, rasping laughter filled the stadium, muffling even the tens of thousands of laughing spectators now fighting to the death along the bleachers.
“Forward!” Broadus shouted, hammering into the fray, a sword in one hand and an axe in the other, downing acolytes with every swing.
Beside the Legionnaire, Kord swung his glowing hammer mightily, batting acolytes away, two at a time, tossing them aside like men made of straw.
Dan sprinted to catch them. That was his duty, helping Broadus reach the stage.
“Kiiiiiiiill!” Wulfgar roared.
Dan swung the two-handed sword as hard as he could. The blade carved through three midsections, splitting dark cloth and flesh alike, and the front wall of Dan’s would-be attackers stumbled, their legs tangling in their own entrails.
A detachment of acolytes rushed past, charging Zeke.
Dan glanced back over his shoulder.
Holly and Maurelio stood their ground, doing their best to defend Zeke, who continued to fire the magical beam through the dome and into the black sphere overhead.
Momentarily, at least, the sphere of darkness had stopped growing.
Where was Nadia? Where was Dan’s dark-haired beauty?
Then he saw her, streaking away, her black cloak flapping behind her as she abandoned the fight, abandoned Holly, abandoned him. Without so much as a backward glance, Nadia dove into the tunnel and disappeared.
Nadia… no… How could you?
And Nadia’s voice returned to him in memory, sad and serious, telling him, You don’t know me, Dan. You can’t. And someday, after you really know me and can’t love me anymore, you’ll understand my reluctance. Please remember then that I still love you and always will, no matter how hard that might be to believe.
Had she anticipated this moment, knowing that she would someday, during a dangerous moment, abandon Holly and him?
Dan felt a part of him crumble away inside his chest.
Nadia…
Maurelio parried and lunged, spun and sidestepped, thrusting his thin sword with all of the grace of a dancer in a choreographed confrontation. But there were too many assailants. Three, four, five… and he was losing ground, backing ever closer to the concentrating wizard.
The bulk of the acolytes, however, rushed Holly. She, too, fought furiously, striking with blinding speed, dropping attackers left and right with her glowing staff and leaping side to side, dodging would-be tacklers.
“Yessss,” Dr. Lynch hissed over the loudspeakers. “Bring me the grey elf.”
Holly’s staff smashed into another acolyte, but before she could sidestep, another dark-cloaked assailant dove forward, hitting her with a low tackle.
Holly jerked backward.
Holding the staff in both hands, she hammered the hooded head with the butt of her weapon. Had that acolyte been her only attacker, she would have finished him, but several acolytes surged forward, and Dan watched his beautiful wife disappear beneath a wave of midnight blue.
“Holly!” he screamed, and started to turn in her direction.
Then a piano fell out of the sky and pounded Dan to the turf.
At least, that’s what it felt like to Dan when the wall of force slammed into his face and neck and shoulder, smashing him to the ground, jarring his bones and knocking the breath from his lungs.
He had paid a steep price for taking his eyes off the battle. Something had happened to his hearing. Everything sounded strangely muffled and indistinct beneath the loud ringing in his ears. His jaw was broken, his mouth filled with metallic blood and bits of shattered teeth, and his eye on that side burned, swelling fast, threatening to close.
Now a gigantic boot was rushing toward his face.
There wasn’t time to roll. Dan jerked his head to one side, and the massive boot pounded the turf an inch from his face.
The monstrous palanquin bearer towered over him, drawing back a fist as big as a boulder. The massive acolyte’s hood peeled back as he leaned forward, and Dan was staring into a face so huge and primitive and unbelievably misshapen that it could only belong to an ogre.
“Pig-face motherfucker!” Wulfgar yelled, plunging into the raging ogre’s solar plexus.
The ogre froze, hunching as the steel skewering him through the middle, and reflexively grabbed the blade. The big hands squeezed, spraying blood, and the ogre yanked its huge body backward, off the sword.
Dan scrambled into a crouch.
The ogre lumbered toward him and tried to roar, but all that came out was a hollow bark of pain and hatred. Blood drained from the corners of the monster’s open mouth, and gray foam bubbled from the chest wound.
Unable to straighten, the ogre leaned forward and shambled toward Dan, who stayed low and swung hard.
Wulfgar sliced through a thick ankle.
The ogre spilled forward, coughing with rage and reaching for Dan with its massive arms.
Dan rolled sideways, tumbling out of the way just as the ogre slammed to the ground where he’d been crouching.
Dan didn’t bother to finish his prone assailant. Instead, he leapt to his feet and charged forward, racing to
the left, where several acolytes carried Holly’s limp form toward the stage and Dr. Lynch, who cackled approving laughter.
A wall of midnight blue, the far flank of the main battle, shifted, blocking Dan from Holly.
Dan barreled into them, his curses joining Wulfgar’s. The barbarian and his sword moved as one, chopping limbs, gutting torsos, and slicing through necks, sending hooded heads tumbling through the air.
Opening his broken jaw to bellow a guttural battle cry, Dan skewered an acolyte’s guts, then ripped his sword free again, spraying blood.
But there were too many acolytes here. Alone, he would never cut his way through to Holly in time.
So he changed directions, charging again into the heart of the melee, where Broadus and Kord, temporarily stalled in their assault of the stage, now fought back-to-back against a dozen attackers, including three ogres.
Dan surged forward, barely aware of the deep cuts striping his body or the blood draining into his swollen eye.
None of that mattered now.
All that mattered now was reaching Broadus and Kord, carving a path to the stage, and killing Dr. Lynch before she could harm Holly.
He charged straight at an ogre standing with its back turned, attacking Kord. Dan raised Wulfgar overhead and swung downward with both hands, aiming to split the skull of the ogre.
At the last second, however, the oblivious ogre shifted its weight, sending Kord tumbling with a swipe of its arm.
Dan’s sword missed the gigantic head, carving into the monster’s muscular shoulder instead. Wulfgar crunched through the ogre’s clavicle and plowed through another foot of flesh, parting the giant from neck to mid-chest.
The ogre shuddered with impact and roared, wheeling around to face Dan, but its shoulder and arm sagged away, opening the yawning wound even farther, sending jets of black blood gushing into the air and throwing the hulking acolyte off balance. It staggered, glaring at Dan with burning hatred, and opened its mouth to roar.
The ogre’s roar was cut off, however, along with the top of its head, when Wulfgar sliced through the giant skull in a straight line from ear to ear.
As soon as the ogre fell, another ogre rushed forward, roaring, and slammed into Dan like a charging bull.
Concussion shocked though Dan’s entire body as he left his feet and crashed into a mob of acolytes.
Dan shifted into a red frenzy.
Everything erupted in a mad roar, his bellow joining the shouting of the acolytes and the inhuman battle cry of the ogre, who pressed forward, swinging his thick arm overhead even as several Slivers of Darkness plunged into Dan’s back and gut and chest.
These were bad wounds, deep and devastating, but Dan ignored them, launching himself forward again to meet the ogre’s attack.
As the giant swung its massive fist, Dan sidestepped, keeping Wulfgar tight to his body and running the blade across the ogre’s stomach as he lumbered past.
Then Dan turned, wheeling around as quickly as he could, and almost fell, weak from blood loss and the bone-breaking attacks of the ogres.
Growling, he forced himself into position, ready to meet his attackers.
Both sides paused for a few seconds, panting for breath.
Meanwhile, a terrible battle raged between the sorcerers.
A river of black electricity poured from Dr. Lynch’s hands and collided in midair with a rush of yellow electricity flowing from Zeke’s hands. The opposing rivers of sparking force pushed back and forth, showering the ground with sparks, the necromancer and the wizard locked in a deadly stalemate.
A wavering silver circle appeared behind Zeke.
A gate to some other dimension?
High above them, the black sphere was swelling again, as Zeke could no longer work against its expansion. With every passing second, the sky grew dimmer as the Plane of Ever-Shade spilled into this plane of existence.
Bam!
With an explosion of black sparks, Dr. Lynch’s river of force overwhelmed Zeke’s, and the old wizard blasted off his feet and disappeared through the wavering silver circle, which snapped shut behind him.
Dan had no time to mourn his lost friend. He had tunnel vision now.
The ogre was bigger than him, but Dan was faster. And in this clash of microseconds, speed was king.
“Pukefaced shitsucker!” Wulfgar yelled, plunging into the ogre’s eye.
No sooner had the huge acolyte toppled forward than half a dozen acolytes scrambled overtop him, charging Dan with black steel.
There were too many of them, and Dan was too damaged to beat them all.
How many hit points did he have remaining?
He pruned an acolyte’s arm at the shoulder, but then the others were on him, hissing as they punched their blades into his flagging body.
Dan stomp-kicked one opponent in the chest and sent him sailing away. Then Dan swung sideways, opening a long cut through another dark-cloaked back.
But the other acolytes grabbed at Dan’s cloak and lunged for his legs and sliced at him with their Slivers of Darkness, pulling him this way and that and opening more burning, bleeding wounds.
Dan struggled for breath. His vision blurred, the edges darkening. He bellowed in defiance, willing himself into another rage, and bulled forward again, thrusting and chopping and smashing skulls with the pommel of his sword.
When the acolytes rushed again, crowding him so that he couldn’t swing Wulfgar, Dan reacted like the wild savage that he was, kneeing crotches, elbowing heads, and sinking his teeth into whatever he could, chomping down hard and spitting out fingers and ears and noses as the acolytes howled with pain and fear and broke beneath his barbaric counter assault.
He ran them down as they fled, chopping them to meat, but then fell to his knees. His legs had gone to water.
He had nothing left. Nothing at all. He could feel his life force ebbing away and unconsciousness settling over him like a killing frost.
He wobbled as he kneeled there, trying not to fall flat onto the ground. Pain gushed up inside him, filling his dying body like a crimson fountain.
He was so tired, so weak.
Have to keep fighting, he thought. Have to kill Dr. Lynch. Have to save Holly.
But a rushing wind filled his ears, deafening him, and the blackness at the edges of his vision tightened, reducing the world to a small, dim sphere at the end of a long, dark tunnel.
I’ve failed, he thought. I’m dying.
56
Heart
But then the rushing wind died, Dan’s vision cleared, and the crushing weight of pain and fatigue and confusion lifted away, all at once, expelled from his body by a warm flood of pleasure and energy and an incredible sense of instantaneous and complete wellbeing.
He straightened with a laugh and stared in disbelief as his terrible wounds knitted together, smoothing to perfection in mere seconds.
“Rise, barbarian,” Kord the priest said. “Rise and rejoin the fight.”
Kord had healed him.
Completely.
Dan jumped to his feet. Yes, he’d just come face-to-face with death, but that wouldn’t stop him, wouldn’t even slow him down.
Because Dan was a barbarian, and he had heart.
Before Dan could even thank the dwarven cleric, however, Kord shouted, “This way!” hoisted his silver hammer overhead, and charged toward Broadus, who had battled his way to the edge of the stage.
Dan hurried after Kord.
Then a loud whipcrack split the air, and a line of black energy, pulsing and fluid and clotted with barbed black knots, lashed across the cleric, slicing through his magical helmet and armor like so much wet paper, splitting the man from crown to crotch in the blink of an eye.
The armored remains of the cleric split and fell to the ground like the halves of a broken mollusk, the flesh within the ruined mail boiling with black corruption, rotting to a dark soup in a fraction of a second.
“No!” Dan screamed, and charged the stage.
; Dr. Lynch cackled, pointing at the festering remains of the dwarf who only seconds before had saved Dan’s life.
Behind her, two black altars had appeared. The silver-haired elf from Talia’s crystal prophecy lay naked upon one altar, Dan saw. His heart leapt with panic as he recognized Holly stretched out atop the other.
Dr. Lynch turned in the direction of Broadus, who hauled himself onto the far end of the stage. The brave Legionnaire was an incredible fighter, but a terrible red mouth yawned on his back, drooling blood.
Broadus had lost his helmet in the battle, and his bare and bloodied head slumped forward now. His jaw hung low. He gasped for air.
The Legionnaire stared at Dr. Lynch as he dragged himself slowly toward her, pawing at his beltline, trying, no doubt, to unsheathe the Blade of Light.
Dan charged the stage.
Dr. Lynch flicked a glance in his direction, raised her arms, and hissed, “Rise.”
All around Dan, dead acolytes stirred, coming groggily off the ground and lurching to their feet. Many of them were missing body parts or leaking entrails. Their bloodless faces turned toward Dan, fixing him with empty stares. Then they lurched toward him, groaning, arms stretched out before them.
“Crom!” Dan bellowed, hating this dark sorcery.
He charged the stage, cutting his way through clumsy, growling acolytes who grabbed at his arms and face and cloak, trying to pull him down. They wanted him on the ground, wanted to pile on top of him, biting and pulling, wanted to pull him to pieces and eat him alive.
But Dan was young and strong and alive, and he carved a path through the undead, determined to kill Dr. Lynch and save his beloved Holly.
On stage, Dr. Lynch hissed, “Stun.”
Broadus fell to the stage like a dead man. Then he floated into the air, drifted across the stage, and settled onto a third black altar, which appeared out of nowhere, Dr. Lynch’s whim come to life.
She was so incredibly, inexorably powerful.
But ensconced in her power, the necromancer had underestimated Dan. He was, after all, merely a stupid barbarian. Assuming that her undead acolytes would finish him, Dr. Lynch didn’t bother to turn his way and was therefore oblivious when Dan vaulted onto the stage, fueled by desperation and loathing and the need for vengeance.