by Nick Stead
Once I’d accepted that I seemed to be alone in the room, there was nothing for it but to blindly feel my way around yet again. My other senses were still no use in trying to learn more about my surroundings, the ever present, overpowering smell of death and decay and the presence of that thing stalking the dungeon blocking out any other useful scents I might have detected. And the room was silent, save for the sounds of my own body. Wherever the smell of fresh death was coming from, it couldn’t be a pile of victims killed by the plunge as I’d originally imagined, or I’d surely have bumped into them already, if not landed on them when I first fell in. No, the area around where I’d fallen seemed to be clear of any such grisly surprises, though no doubt I would blunder into whatever horrors this chamber held if I searched it for long enough.
Heart pounding with a fresh surge of adrenalin, I took the first step into the unknown. New pain immediately greeted me as I placed my right foot down, sharp and immediate, stabbing through flesh and bone and ripping another cry of agony from deep in my chest. Light also came rushing in when my weight pressed down, revealing the same room I’d passed before with its fresh meat hanging as bait from vicious hooks on the ends of what turned out to be spiked chains above pools of blood. There were also several empty spiked chains hanging down, offering nothing but torment. The area I’d fallen into was mercifully free of the wicked spikes that lined every other inch of the ground in the chamber, but I would have to endure the pain of walking over the metal fangs if I wanted to escape this room and continue through the dungeon. And on the wall to my right were more words daubed in blood.
Level Four
I took all this in through squinted eyes, teeth gritted against the pain. The meat was still fresh enough to serve as a tantalising prize inviting me to claim it, if I would just suffer the damage to my flesh required to reach it. But it no longer dripped with blood, or I might have guessed where I’d fallen into before the light had shown the room to me. And I was hungry enough to consider trying to reach as many of those succulent treats as I could physically manage, before pain and exhaustion got the better of me.
Knowing I was in for a considerable amount of bodily torment no matter what I did, I tried to make a quick mental map of the best routes to get across the room. The chamber was much bigger than what little I’d glimpsed from the passage earlier had suggested, the spike free area I’d fallen into just a few inches from the wall furthest from the door. To my left was what looked to be the narrow passage leading into the room from the tunnel I’d first started in, with the bars presumably still in place at the end of it. Technically that would have been the least painful route out of the chamber of torment but somehow I doubted it would be that easy, and even if I was able to escape that way, I’d eventually end up on the wrong side of the room holding Lady Sarah again, which was no good if I wanted to keep to the witch’s bargain. So I had no option but to endure the greater pain of crossing to the far side of the room, though it wasn’t exactly a case of just going straight across – the door being opposite where I’d fallen through would have been too easy, so instead David had made sure I would have that bit of extra ground to cover, placing it to the right side of that far wall. And just to add to the challenge, a few shallow pits had been created to prevent me simply taking a straight, diagonal path to freedom. There was one close enough for me to see down to slightly longer, thicker spikes waiting within, promising even greater pain than their smaller cousins were already inflicting on my feet. I could probably have jumped across those pits with my supernatural speed, strength and agility, but I’d be in for a world of pain when I landed on the spikes on the other side. Walking across them was one thing; jumping from one section to another seemed like a quick way to cause myself a lot of extra damage from the force of landing on them.
So I weighed up my options for going around the obstacles. The quickest way to the door wouldn’t take me within reach of any of the chunks of meat, and it wouldn’t be as simple as just grabbing my prize when I got close enough to it either – it hung too high up for me to reach from the floor, so the only way to grasp it would be to climb the lower hanging spiked chains which held the promise of nothing but pain, if I wanted to reach the hooks with their offerings of pleasure. I briefly considered trying to swing across the chains to grab all the pieces on offer and cross the room, but I decided that would result in a lot of extra injuries. Walking over the spikes seemed the lesser of the two evils as I felt I could take more care to try and keep from causing myself too much extra damage, and I had to account for the cost of repairing that damage as well. If I was too greedy and sustained more injuries than was necessary, by the time I’d spent the greater amount of energy to heal all those wounds I probably wouldn’t gain any benefits from the food my body craved to replenish some of that energy. So in the end, I decided my best bet was to take a slightly longer route to the door that would allow me to grab the three biggest chunks of meat without doing too much extra damage, and that would probably grant me a little extra boost to help ease the hunger even after healing my injuries, and help keep me going when there would no doubt be more shapeshifting to follow.
My foot was still where I’d placed it, still impaled on the spikes while I plotted out which path to take. It took a great deal of willpower to move forward, teeth gritted against the throbbing in my right foot and in anticipation of the similar pain that was about to lance through my left foot as I took the next step. My tread was marked with tears of crimson rolling down bare skin already stained dark with old blood. Only the sheer strength of my will kept me upright and moving forward, my mind all too aware that collapsing from the agony of my damaged flesh was not an option. So I forced my ruined feet to take my weight, despite the pain, shifting my balance to my left foot and carefully lifting my first foot in a fresh wave of torment as the spikes slid back through the holes they’d created.
It was somewhat disconcerting to see right through my ruined body part as I tried to align it with the next bit of ground so that the spikes there would go through the same holes, hoping to cause minimal fresh damage as I moved along each time. The raw flesh making up the circumference of those circles of agony was dark in the faint light, the bone pale where it showed through. I tried to distance myself from the pain as best I could, trying to convince myself it wasn’t my own wounded feet I was looking down at but some other poor sod’s, and besides, had I not already been through and seen much worse before? But despite my best efforts, I wasn’t entirely successful and my progress felt so painfully slow, the spikes I still had to cross to reach salvation seemingly stretching for miles ahead. So instead my thoughts turned to what I would do to David when I eventually beat the final level of this sadistic game he’d devised, which I was determined to do after everything I was being put through. The heat of my anger helped bring renewed strength to go on, adrenalin and rage probably the only things keeping me going at that point.
Those agony filled moments dragged on as I kept taking it one careful step at a time, my suffering beginning to feel like it would go on for eternity. But I was gradually moving closer to my goal, for there dangled my first reward just out of reach, the crimson pool beneath it still and calm around the spikes breaching its surface, like the back of some hideous sea monster lurking within. The chain I would have to climb to take my prize looked even less inviting than the cruel surface I walked over, and yet I found myself reaching out for it with barely a conscious thought, the chunk of meat too tempting for my hunger to resist. It had grown so strong that it might as well have been a separate entity taking possession of my body, one I was powerless to fight any longer. The hunger would not be denied, suffering or no.
Sharp metal points bit into the soft flesh of my palms and the underside of my fingers as I took hold of the chain, but the hunger was more persistent than the throbbing of my nerves crying out against such damage, and so I began to climb up, painful inch by painful inch. With my lycanthropic strength it was fairly easy to grip with my hands o
nly, saving my already ruined and aching feet from any further damage, but I was acutely aware of the risk of injury to areas other than my extremities while I ascended, the chain swinging too close for comfort towards my vulnerable, naked flesh. As agonising as it was to hold on with the metal stabbing through my hands, I forced myself to keep a slow and steady pace, doing my best to keep the spikes scratching anywhere else as I pulled myself upwards.
Blood ran freely from my injured hands, my skin and the metal beneath slick with it. If it weren’t for the spikes to aid my grip I would probably have slipped back down to the fresh torment awaiting below, but then again if it weren’t for the spikes my hands wouldn’t have been bleeding in the first place. Though it could have been considerably worse – if David had designed them to go right through my hands then I probably wouldn’t have had any grip at all by the time I’d gone far enough to sustain sufficient damage to lose function in them.
Even with my greater strength, I began to feel the burn in my arms as I climbed ever higher, aching in perfect harmony to the throbbing of my hands and feet. Only the power of the hunger and sheer willpower kept me moving steadily upwards, slowly but surely, until eventually the gory treasure was within my grasp. My arm was shaking from the strain as I reached out to take my prize, gripping the chain tighter with my other hand, teeth gritted against the pain as the metal fangs bit deeper still. I could only just reach across to the meat hanging on the hook at the end of the other chain, but somehow I managed to get a good enough hold to pull it free. I let it fall to the ground rather than trying to struggle back down whilst carrying it, and briefly considered jumping after it, thinking the chunk was large enough for me to land on and cushion my fall. It was tempting, though in the end I decided such a move would be too risky, so there was nothing for it but to suffer an equally painful descent back down the chain.
Once I was back on the ground, my feet taking the burden of agony once more, I ravenously tore into the raw flesh. It might not have been the still warm meat of a fresh kill I’d come to crave, but it tasted divine as I gulped it down, feeling I’d truly earned this meal after literally paying in blood and sweat. With the last bite I found I still hungered for more, and it was debatable whether the effort had really been worth it. I tried to tell myself I hadn’t just endured the extra suffering for nothing, that it would still grant me a small energy boost after the cost of the energy I would have to spend healing the damage, but I remained doubtful. And yet, once I’d crossed the next stretch of spiked ground on the path I’d chosen and reached the second chain I’d intended to climb for another meal, still the hunger demanded this second offering, and I was powerless to resist the temptation hanging just above me.
After another difficult climb for that second reward which might not really have been worth it, my stomach only roared with dissatisfaction that its demands for food had still not been met. So it was I crossed over to the final chain and wrapped my hands round the metal teeth a third time, a fresh stab of pain shooting through the flesh and more bloody tears running across my skin in response to that cruel greeting. The burn in my arms only ached greater still as I pulled myself up, the muscles complaining at having to endure yet more physical exertion. I felt like I was reaching my limits again and by that point I just wanted it to be over. I forgot my earlier caution and ascended as quickly as my exhausted, wounded flesh could manage, eager to grab my final prize and escape that room of pain.
I drew level with the third tempting morsel on offer and reached out a final time for this one last prize I’d set my sights on, but in my rush to get it over with my fingers started to slip down those thorns of metal. My grip was weakening and even with the help of the spikes, the inside of my hands were just too slimy with blood and perspiration. The cruel points embedded in my skin slid upwards as I began to fall, and with a roar that was equal parts pain and frustration, I made one last desperate move to claim my reward, determined not to fall down empty handed.
I threw myself forward before my grip went completely, grabbing onto the chunk of meat hanging from its hook and dangling there, panting heavily. The chain I’d climbed up swung wildly, whipping my bare skin several times as if it had gained a life of its own and was determined to punish me for disturbing it. Its teeth raked across my body, leaving bloody rivulets in its wake and the stinging pain of flesh wounds, and there was little I could do to avoid it in the struggle to stay up on the metal vines and keep myself from falling to the fresh torture awaiting below. Several cuts opened up on my legs but somehow I managed to escape any injury to my manhood for which I thanked the Devil, or whatever being of power a werewolf should pray to. Even with my high pain threshold, that particular torment might have been my undoing.
The new life the chain had been given eventually began to die down as it grew calmer, and through gritted teeth I readied myself to swing back over, the ache in my arms fast becoming unbearable. Falling was not an option now I hung from the chain with the meat, as this one was directly above one of the pits with the longer spikes than those on the level ground. Falling on the smaller spikes would be painful enough, but those longer ones were likely to do a lot of damage for me to have to heal, which definitely would make my efforts to get the meat pointless. And it was a torture I could really do without, after all the torment the room had shown me already.
Hand shaking with exhaustion, I reached out to take hold of the other chain once more, but to my dismay the chunk of meat began to rip, the hook it was hanging from not driven deep enough into the flesh for it to take my added weight. My fingers closed on empty air as the sudden, unexpected movement jolted me, my body dipping downwards slightly. I had a matter of seconds to transfer my body weight back over to the first chain and so, in another desperate bid to stay up on the chains, I threw myself at the other chain again. This time I successfully managed to grab it, but the meat ripped free of the hook and came loose in my other hand before I could get a good enough grip, and the metal was slipping through my hands again, faster than before, the spikes tearing my palms and my fingers to shreds. I was falling, and it seemed all I could do was scream.
Fortunately that fall wasn’t as far as when I’d originally entered the room from the trapdoor set in the tunnel above, so I was spared the agony of more broken bones, apart from where they were damaged by the spikes. I landed in a crouched position as before, but the metal teeth on the ground drove new holes into my flesh and bone, forcing another roar of agony and rage from deep within my chest as if my very being had become pain. My right hand was already shredded from where the spiked chain had gouged it on the way down, strips of skin, muscle and sinew hanging down like bloody rags. But I’d instinctively placed it on the ground when I’d landed to steady myself and keep my balance, which had driven the floor spikes right through the flesh, creating holes similar to those in my feet and all but ruining that hand. The other one had been spared any further damage, since I’d kept hold of the meat on the way down. And one other small blessing – I had landed on the level part of the ground, rather than in the pit with the longer spikes.
With the added damage to my feet, I doubted whether I’d make it the rest of the way to the door, as close as I now was. I would have preferred to wait to use any energy to heal my wounds until I’d made it clear of the spikes, but it looked like I might have to use the power of the transformation to allow me to cross the rest of the room, even though that would mean enduring fresh injuries and having to heal a second time. But first I would eat my hard won prize.
Ignoring the steady throb of my wounds, I tore into the chunk of meat and savoured it as best I could. I wasn’t convinced it had been worth the added cost of my blood for this final piece, despite the strength of my hunger, and it still wasn’t enough to satisfy the ache in my belly. It might be the last taste of fresh meat the Slayers would grant me in that accursed place though, so I tried to enjoy it.
My meagre meal finished, I attempted to rise back onto two legs, only to be proved right – my f
eet would no longer take my weight, the damage to them too great after the fall, and I was forced to remain crouched. There was nothing for it, I’d have to allow the ruined flesh to start changing until the wounds closed up and the skin knit back together with not so much as a scratch, flawless and unmarked once again – the parts of it that weren’t currently impaled by the spikes, at least. I needed to do it with as little energy as possible though since there’d be more to heal by the time I made it completely out of the room, so I was careful to concentrate the change on the damaged areas. I’d long since learnt to heal myself without any visible changes, unless my wounds were really severe and required a full shapeshift to repair, but this damage was extensive enough that my extremities would have to become somewhat lupine and paw-like to fix.
So I concentrated on that throbbing mess of raw flesh and shattered bones, willing it to shift and become whole again as it took its new shape. New pain immediately spread through my feet as the changes began, muscle and sinew turned to something fluid, flowing together until it was whole once more. A few of my toes had all but been severed from the impact of landing on the sharp tips of the spikes, hanging on to the rest of my feet by the barest of gruesome threads. But that torn flesh and fractured bone reattached itself as if an invisible surgeon had sewn them back together, the steady throb easing as it did so until only the usual pain of the transformation remained. Not all the damage could be healed though. Try as my flesh might to repair all the rips and tears, there was no closing those holes with the metal still stabbing through them.