by Aaron Hodges
Until finally, it ended.
The sound of his boot striking stone seemed impossibly loud in the darkness. Romaine grunted, surprised to find solid earth rather than another rung. Holding the torch away from himself, he checked to see whether he had truly reached the bottom.
Firelight illuminated a wide chamber, its walls, ceilings and floor all carved from the same plain grey stone of the shaft. There was something abnormal about that stone, an unnatural smoothness and lack of patterns within the rock, as though it had been formed by magic rather than ordinary forces.
His light also illuminated three tunnels leading from the chamber. A heavy layer of dust covered the ground, revealing the footprints of those who had passed before. There were dozens, though all had taken the same tunnel, and returned from the same direction. It seemed the Tangata had known where they were going.
The Archivist had vanished, though the faintest glow revealed she’d followed the same path as the creatures. Did she realise the Tangata had left, or was she simply insane? Either way, Romaine was done with the woman’s games. She had endangered everyone by coming down here.
Romaine should never have contemplated this plan. He should have ignored her pleas and bound her in chains, carried her all the way to the Illmoor, if necessary. Anything but this mad plan.
Scuffling noises came from above and Romaine stepped away from the shaft as the others dropped into the chamber—first Dale, then Lukys and Cara, with Groner bringing up the lead. They had tied their spears to their packs with strips of rope, and quickly set about freeing them. Drawing his axe again, Romaine moved into the mouth of the main tunnel to see what waited for them.
Shadows danced in the flickering light. This was no place for living things. Abandoned by the Gods and the ancient humans who had once worked alongside them; now it was home only to the dead.
Or so Romaine prayed.
They started down the strange tunnel, surrounded by those smooth walls, following the footprints of the creatures who sought to kill them. Romaine tried to count their numbers, but the prints crisscrossed and overlaid one another. Though he did notice those leading back towards the entrance were less defined, the strides longer. Had the creatures left in a rush?
A million other questions leapt at him, but there were no answers. They could not return without the Archivist. Romaine had no plans to be labelled a mutineer
Ahead the tunnel split in two, but again the footprints only led in one direction. The glow of the Archivists light still shone, brighter now. They were closing the distance. Axe still held in hand, Romaine picked up the pace.
This new tunnel was lined with doorways, seemingly cut from the strange stone itself, though inside most were plain and empty. These the Tangata had ignored, their attention seemingly fixed on some distant goal.
A few, though, the creatures had entered. In these chambers, Romaine was surprised to find the remains of ancient devices scattered about the room, objects of metal and precious glass and other unidentifiable materials, all smashed to pieces against the unforgiving floor.
“What The Fall?” Lukys whispered, stepping up beside him.
Romaine shook his head. “Let’s find the Archivist,” he said. “Nothing about this place make sense.”
They continued. The deeper they ventured, the more stale the air became, the harder to breathe. There was a dryness to it, a faint sweetness too, though amongst the other scents it seemed foul, like a field of flowers gone rotten. The light ahead continued to grow, vanishing at times as the Archivist disappeared into different chambers. Romaine did not call out. He was sure the Tangata must have departed now…
…so why did he still feel they were not alone?
He did not have long to wait for the answer. As they passed around a bend in the tunnel, a terrible smell touched their nostrils. They didn’t encounter the source until several doorways further down the tunnel. Within the chamber, Romaine could see liquid and broken glass covering the floor—and something else. White flesh reflected the light of the torch. The stench was so strong Romaine would have done anything not to enter. But he had to know.
Taking a cloth from his pocket, he held it to his nose and stepped inside. Lukys and Cara followed, while the others remained without. Holding the torch high, Romaine suppressed a shudder.
Three naked bodies lay on the floor, human in form, though so far gone as to be almost unrecognisable. Their flesh was like wax, twisted, melted, and strange lumps grew from their arms and legs and backs.
Glass crunched beneath his boots as he moved closer, heart pounding in his ears. Three circular platforms of solid steel stood in the centre of the chamber, just an inch from the ground. Jagged pieces of glass still stuck out from the edges.
“They were…preserved,” Lukys said quietly. “The glass must have formed cylinders, with the liquid and bodies inside, some chymical…” he hesitated. “Why would the Tangata break them?”
“Death,” Cara whispered, eyes wide, face pale.
Lukys looked at her sharply, as though she had said something profound. Ignoring them, Romaine held his breath and knelt beside one of the bodies. Carefully, he lifted its eyelids. Even in its decomposing state, he could see the iris had been grey.
“Tangata,” he croaked, rising and backing away.
“The original traitors,” Dale’s voice came from the doorway.
“Then why are they still here?” Lukys asked.
Romaine shook his head. “I don’t care.” He retreated to the doorway. “Let’s find the Archivist, now.”
“What did the Tangata come here for?” Lukys whispered as they started down the corridor again. Erika’s light had drawn further away while they’d been stopped.
“We…should leave this place,” Cara said, voice so low Romaine hardly heard her.
He glanced at her. “What about Erika?”
Her lip trembled as she stared back. For a moment he thought she was going to bolt, but instead she nodded, resolve returning to her eyes.
They passed more chambers, most—thankfully—empty. In a few, they found other broken things, and in one, two empty cylinders of glass. Romaine paused in the doorway of this one, shocked at their size. Not even the crafters in New Nihelm, once famed for their glassblowing, could have managed anything half as large.
Finally the light ahead grew still. It seemed the Archivist had reached the end of the tunnel. They picked up their pace once more, eager to find the woman and begone from that terrible place.
Crash.
Romaine flinched as the sound of something breaking carried down the tunnel. He glanced at the others, then they were running, racing towards the soft glow ahead. The light quickly grew brighter, until it lit the hallway ahead of them, seemingly too bright for the Archivist’s gauntlet. Looking ahead, Romaine saw the source: a brilliant white emerging from one of chambers.
He staggered to a stop in the entrance, axe thrust out ahead of him, torch clutched tight, though it was no longer needed. The light was blinding, and he squinted into the chamber, trying to see what waited. Slowly the room took shape.
Erika stood a few feet away, head bowed and arms limp at her side. No light came from her gauntlet—instead, it emerged from a dozen crystals lining the wall. Romaine shuddered at the magic, but the other contents of the chamber were far more pressing. He stepped up beside the Archivist, scanning the bodies that lay nearby for signs of life.
Unlike before, these were no ancient, persevered things. Men and women in plain-spun clothes lay scattered about the floor, throats torn out, limbs separated from bodies. Blood pooled around them and eyes stared sightlessly into the brilliant light of the crystals.
Grey eyes.
A shudder ran down Romaine’s spine as he looked on the dead Tangata. Five of them. Impossible. What could possibly have done this to five Tangata?
His eyes were drawn to the rear of the room. Two more of those strange massive cylinders had stood there, and these too had been shattered by the Tanga
ta. Except here, light shone from crystals set into the steel bases, the same as those on the wall.
Somehow, the magic of the Gods remained in this room, indifferent to the countless passage of centuries.
Light glinted from the liquid spilled across the stone, but Romaine’s heart lurched in his chest as he realised something was missing.
The bodies. Where are the bodies from the broken cylinders?
“We need to go,” came Cara’s voice from the doorway, high-pitched, panicked. Ready to flee.
Romaine nodded, reaching for the Archivist.
“They were looking for them,” Erika whispered, still staring at the dead Tangata. “How did they know they were here?”
“Archivist—” Romaine cut off as a scream came from the corridor.
Lukys, Cara and Dale scrambled into the chamber, then spun to face the doorway, spears raised. Groner followed them—then crumpled to the ground, blood seeping from a terrible wound in the back of his skull.
An unfamiliar stepped into the light. Fluid dripped from the things naked body as it moved into the chamber. Another followed, making a pair, one male, the other female.
Grey eyes swept the room, terrifying, mad, intelligent.
Tangata.
Or something else?
Romaine hefted his axe and stepped towards the creatures. Shards of glass crunched beneath his boots as he sought the rage that had saved him so many times, that had given him the strength to defeat so many of these creatures. For once it did not come.
He glanced at the bodies on the floor. Dead Tangata. Nothing could have killed so many, not in such brutal fashion. At least, nothing living.
Looking at the creatures in the doorway once more, he saw them for what they were. Not Tangata, but something new—or very, very old.
The originals; those ancients who had betrayed the Gods to gain their power.
Preserved here, hidden away from the world, asleep, waiting.
A terrible fear touched Romaine as he faced the beasts. They could not be allowed to leave this place. If they could so easily destroy the Tangata, nothing would stop them if they escaped into the world.
With a roar, Romaine rushed them, axe raised to slice the beasts in half—
Breath exploded between Romaine’s teeth as a fist struck him like a club to the chest. Stars flickering across his vision, he staggered backwards, folded in two, unable to breathe. He looked up to find the male of the pair standing over him. He hadn’t even seen it move.
Cries came from the others as they reacted, Dale leaping back, Lukys thrusting out with his spear, Erika raising her magic gauntlet.
The female was faster than all of them. Lukys was thrown aside, spear snapped in two, and Dale crumpled, his weapon clattering to the ground. Light flashed from the Archivist’s gauntlet—then the beast was upon her. A scream echoed from the walls as a blow sent the woman tumbling backwards across the chamber.
No, no, no!
Romaine strained to recover his breath; it felt as though he were inhaling through a swamp reed. Fighting through the pain, he struggled to straighten, to fall into a fighting stance, to lift his axe. The creatures moved so fast, it couldn’t be possible, couldn’t be…
Two pairs of grey eyes turned to watch him. He gasped as the male suddenly came face-to-face with him, then tried to swing his blade. A hand caught the shaft, halting the blow as one might bat aside a fly. Moans came from around the room as the others struggled to recover, but in that moment, Romaine saw the truth.
None of them were leaving this place alive.
The knowledge granted him a strange sense of calm. After all this time evading death, finally it had come for him. There was no fighting it this time. These creatures were a force of nature, born of the Gods themselves, beyond any mortal man to resist. He had only to open his arms and embrace his fate…
No.
Romaine tensed, pushing back against the creature’s strength. If he was to die, he would take this monster with him. He could feel the creature resisting, its power unmatched, but…
Romaine relaxed, then swung out with his spare hand, aiming a blow for the creature’s throat. His change of tact threw the thing off-balance, giving him an opening—
A scream tore from Romaine’s throat as pain erupted from his arm. He staggered back, gaping at the blood now spurting from his wrist. His left hand was…gone. The axe slid from his still-working hand and struck the ground with a clang.
His hand was gone!
He stared at his foe in horror.
The monster smiled.
28
The Recruit
Danger, death, death!
The words pounded on the inside of Lukys’s skull like a drum, robbing him of thought, of action. He watched in sheer terror as Romaine stood alone against the Tangata, so overwhelmed he could not move, not even when the female leapt at him, splintering his spear in two.
Even to his inexperienced eye, he knew there was something different about these two. The dead Tangata lay all around, and he knew instinctively they’d been killed by the creatures now battling against Romaine. Why they would do such a thing he could not say, but he knew now why Perfugian legends warned against disturbing these ancient places.
The Gods may have departed, but their magic, their creations, remained.
And they were terrible.
Lukys gaped as his mentor staggered back from the monster, his left hand…gone! A groan came from Romaine as the axe slipped from his fingers and he clutched at the severed limb, all the fight gone from him. Laughter whispered from the narrow walls as the monster stepped after him.
Rage ignited in Lukys’s chest. He still held his shattered spear. Tossing aside the useless end, he took a two-handed grip of what remained to him, steel tip aimed at the monster’s chest.
“All of us together!” Lukys bellowed, trying to bring their broken remnants together. “Like Romaine taught us!”
A flicker of shadow, air hissing between his teeth—then pain.
Lukys belatedly crumpled in two as the female attacked, her fist slamming into his stomach. Unable to breathe, he crumpled to the stone, vision flickering. Too late he realised they’d never stood a chance, that these…things had only been toying with them.
A grin twisted the male’s face as it picked up the fallen spear. Terrible silver eyes examined the weapon, then turned on Lukys. It lifted the blade…
And disappeared.
Or rather, the creature was flung across the room by a tempest of copper hair and grey furs.
Lukys watched in horror as Cara and the male struck the ground and rolled. Steel glinted in his friend’s hands, but a dagger was no match for these things, no match for their strength—
Blood spurted across the stones as Cara leapt to her feet, her knife left behind, impaled in the male’s throat. It thrashed against the floor, hands clutched desperately at the wound, but there was no stemming the gushing of blood and in seconds it grew limp, lying still amidst the broken glass and swirling liquids.
Across the room, the female stared at its mate for a long moment, silver eyes wide, registering disbelief. Then they narrowed, and a terrible growl echoed from its throat. The pounding began again in Lukys’s skull as it faced Cara, though now it seemed there were twin beats…
Death, life. Death, life. Death, life.
“Cara, run—” Lukys tried to warn her, but his words came too late.
Faster than his eyes could track, the beast charged at his friend, teeth bared, naked limbs flashing, roars echoing in the narrow chambers.
Cara leapt to meet it.
Lukys’s fear gave way to shock as he watched, stunned, as the two fought their way across the room. It…wasn’t possible, but Cara matched the beast blow for blow, each movement little more than a blur. No human could move so fast—not even the Tangata were as quick.
Snarls filled the chamber as the two exchanged strikes, inhuman, wild cries echoing from the ceilings. Staring at the two, Lukys
tried to reconcile the woman he had known these last weeks, his friend, with the creature that stood before him now. Blood covered her face and clothing, so that she seemed more animalistic than even the beast she had fought.
Lukys winced as a blow caught Cara in the shoulder, sending her backwards, but he made no move to help her. Whatever was happening…he couldn’t understand what was going on, how his friend had transformed. What they were seeing, it was not possible.
Cara straightened with a snarl, auburn hair tangled, obscuring her face. The ancient Tangata came at her again, but this time Cara was quicker, her fist colliding with the female’s head, sending it whipping backwards.
Deathlife, deathlife, deathlife.
Straining to think through the chaos, Lukys’s eyes swept the room. Dale was down on one knee. He still clutched a spear, but his face was pale, eyes wide as he watched the two creatures circle one another. A body slumped nearby was the Archivist, but whether she was unconscious or dead, her magic could not help them against this thing.
Then there was Romaine.
The axeman had managed to regain his feet, though he’d left the massive axe on the floor beside him. The colour had left his tanned features. Blood stained the floor around the Calafe—a lot of blood. The sight shook Lukys from his daze, and he darted to the axeman’s side
“Romaine,” he said, grasping the man’s shoulder.
The axeman glanced at him, but his eyes showed no sign of recognition. “Can’t let them leave,” he was muttering beneath his breath.
Lukys cursed. At least the Calafe had retained enough sense to clutch a rag to his wound—but a glance at the severed limb told Lukys it would need more than that to stem the bleeding. Quickly, he dragged the belt from his trousers and pulled it tight around the axeman’s forearm. Romaine hardly seemed to register the makeshift tourniquet. Like everyone else, his eyes were fixed on the battle.
Death, death, death.
A scream rang from the walls and Lukys spun in time to see Cara catch her foe by the arm. Blood flowed as she wrenched, sending the creature to its knees. An answering shriek echoed from the walls, but it ended in a gurgle as Cara’s fingers lashed out, tearing through flesh and cartilage and bone.