by Lucas Thorn
Behind her, Nearne didn’t look back. Didn’t watch as the yellow fog swirled around Mija’s body. Searching. Tasting the aftermath of death’s brutal touch.
Lux was already at the thick stone door, hammering with his staff.
“Ihan!” His voice was a rasp, but it thundered in the elf’s ears. “My name is Lux. I came here before. A long time ago. You remember my name? I am Lux Corepith. Open the door, Ihan. Nath is gone. He lies dead before the altar. The Madman comes for his toll. You must make sacrifice. You must!”
Silence answered him. A dreadful silence which crawled through the air.
Sodden and wet, it brought cold with it. A crisp kind of cold from the depths of the darkest corners of the sea.
Taste of salt.
Nysta pulled a long deep breath, holding it in her lungs like a treasure she couldn’t let go. Felt the shivers weaving down her back. Knew there was worse than draug moving closer.
Worse than anything she’d ever known.
So she held her breath and waited for the silence to end.
“Open the door!” The blind deathpriest’s anger lashed the courtyard. Behind him, draug shuffled closer. Some ground brittle teeth, grinning in anticipation of bleeding flesh soaking in their mouths.
Features in varying stages of decay. Bloated by their time beneath the sea.
Veins like leeches beneath skin. Filled with dark fluids of necromancy.
Knuckles creaking as fingers formed claws.
Eyes hollow and glaring with naked hunger.
Mother. The whisper coiled inside her brain like a viper, making every hair on her body stand on end. Mother, you hide but I see you.
Her violet eyes searched for escape. For a corridor out. A passage unblocked by draug. But the fog surrounded the altar. She could hardly see the stairs.
With her hands as they were, she couldn’t even think of climbing the walls.
The draug began to shuffle up the stairs. Cold and slow. Wraithlike.
Then, from the rear, a roar. Deep-throated and raw. Divided by rage and sorrow.
And the draug paused to turn as one, confusion flickering across their faces as they shared the same thought. The same emotion. A hive mind consuming dead brains.
A violent crunch.
Heavy.
Steel impacting flesh.
And the elf grinned, shooting a glance at the deathpriest.
Who shrugged.
“Better late than never,” he said drily as the massive figure of Rockjaw came charging through the fog.
The ork had found a larger axe which he swung in wide sweeping arcs to send black blood spitting across the courtyard.
“Nearne!” Chopped the head of another draug and stormed through the rest. Hulking arms sweeping through as though he was dividing a field of corn. Never took his eyes from the young girl standing lost at the top of the stairs. He pounced up to her, leaving a trail of broken and quivering draug in his wake. “Nearne, I thought you were dead. Thought I was too late!”
The young girl was wordless for a moment.
Then she pointed to where Mija lay, half-hidden by the fog. “Mija…”
“You see?” He spun on the blind deathpriest, sharing his fury with the elf. “You see? This is why I left. This! It’s all so fucking pointless. We fight and fight. It’s never ending. Never. You, deathpriest. You demand our loyalty. Our fists. Our deaths. You don’t even pause to look at our broken bodies. You just keep walking. Using us. Squeezing blood from our bones. You get power. You get a name written in history. You get riches. For us, what do we get but a painful death? War. It’s pointless.” He spun on his feet, a wild blur, to face the crowd of draug shuffling ever closer. Pointed his axe at them. “Pointless!”
Lux leaned against the barred door with his staff.
Trembling with rage as the ork’s words worked to ignite his fury.
Rage aimed at the ork. At the draug. At the door.
He squeezed bony fists tight around the staff. Then relaxed them, letting his fingers dance along the small dotted ridges. Mouth murmuring words of power which curled into the air like fumes.
Drew the familiar acrid taste into the elf’s nostrils.
She was hunched over her belly, feeling twinges in her lower back which kept her from straightening properly. Her side bubbled blood in a slow laconic thread. The worms were already at the new wound, spreading themselves thin through her battered body as they sought to close the ragged hole.
Weakness tugged at her awareness. Told her to slide against the wall.
Just sit and wait for the end.
But despite the ork’s insistence that fighting was pointless, she knew no other way.
So she rolled her head, shifting aching muscle. Tried to straighten her back and looked across the incoming sea of grim-looking draug. And lifted her knives as best she could in her bound fists. Clamped her teeth around the rag on her right hand and pulled it tighter. As tight as she could.
Nearne watched the elf, sharing her gaze between Nysta and Rockjaw.
The ork glared at the deathpriest. Axe still in his huge fists. Not wanting to give an inch.
“You ain’t fighting for Lux, feller,” Nysta said at last, spitting bloodstained spit to the ground. Nodded at Nearne, who pressed against the ork’s back, knife still in her terrified hands. “It ain’t about power. Ain’t about gold. Reckon it’s about whether you think she’s worth fighting for.”
“It’s always about someone’s scramble for power. We ain’t here because we wanted to be. We’re here because of him. I know it. You know it. And I’d bet my fucking balls he had more to do with what’s happening than he’s said.” Bitterness threaded his voice. He flung a dark look at the blind deathpriest still unmoving in front of the door.
“There’s always a point where war becomes survival,” the elf said. Nodded to the draug now just a few steps from the ork. They watched him with soulless caution. “Seems like we got to that point about now.”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” she sighed. “Ain’t nothing ever changes about war.”
The blind deathpriest reached back, holding the staff like a spear. Then shouted one last word of power before ramming the point into the centre of the door. Plasma exploded from the tip, sending him flying.
He landed hard at Rockjaw’s feet, spluttering curses.
Even the draug paused as the shockwave blasted outward, sending smoke and debris flicking through the air. The elf felt a few bite into her cheek. One missed her eye by only millimetres and she blinked rapidly, turning her face and choking on the acrid smoke.
“Did it break?” The blind deathpriest snarled as he wrestled his long coat to get to his feet. Had managed to keep hold of the staff. “Did it?”
Nysta shook her head. The heavy stone door bore a huge crack, but was otherwise unmoved. “Nope.”
“Fuck.”
Whispers from the fog. Like slivers of glass cutting through the echo of the explosion.
I live!
“The sleeper has woken,” Lux breathed, his voice suddenly full of something she’d never heard before in the blind deathpriest’s tone.
Fear.
And a mammoth shadow, darker than the others, stepped into the courtyard. Huge and hidden by the fog, it dragged itself down the stairs.
Sluggish and unstoppable.
The sound of it, wet flesh scraping across the rough stone floor. Dragging. Slithering. Boneless but solid in form. Each step made the ground vibrate beneath their feet. Dust flitted from the structures arcing overhead. Thunder, so far in the distance, told of the world’s terror as the Madman finally rose from his ancient slumber.
Guts swirling with horror, the icy ball of fear rolled and rolled inside the elf’s numb belly. Clutching her intestines with its jagged edge.
Sweat dribbled in cold trails down her back and her mouth was dry. Dry and feeling like her gums would crack.
She wanted it to reveal itself.
But knew one look at it might drive her as insane.
Shuddering uncontrollably, her violet eyes narrowed as the draug surged forward, mouths opening in silent roars. Their master’s voice howling at them to tear flesh. Render bone.
Chipped and broken teeth drooling black slime. Hands curled into savage claws.
The dead charged as one.
“Just remember what you are, feller,” she shouted to the ork. “Sun’s just coming up, so you’ll need to love your craft if you want to see it rise.”
“Coming up?” He had time to glance to the sky. “Then why’s it getting darker?”
“So soon?” The elf sighed. A voice from one side of the courtyard suddenly shouted her name. Familiar voice. One she didn’t immediately place. But it made her mouth curl into a grin and she lifted herself with one more desperate heave and tensed for the inevitable wave of violence. Thrust Queen of Hearts deep into the chest of the first draug to make her reach. “Where’s the day gone?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The draug died its final death.
Eyes melted inside skull as the black writhing enchantment shot through its body from the blade of her knife. Darkness consumed its life with a savage rustle like soft feet across crisp snow.
She wrenched herself free, feeling the knife tug against the wrapping and dreaded losing it. But she didn’t dare hold back. Couldn’t hold back. Any hesitation now could be the difference between death and survival.
A couple of draug hissed as they drew close, wary of the evil blade. They crept sideways, looking to circle her, shepherding her so her back was to the stone wall. Pressing her to stand where they could try picking her apart with relative ease. A slow stalking, which instead of frightening the elf served only to harden her resolve.
Rockjaw was having a harder time.
Unconcerned by his weapons, the draug were an army of frenzied rats, crawling over themselves and the bodies of the fallen as they sought to rip the ork to pieces. So far, he was holding them off. But it was a fight he had no chance of winning if it went much longer.
He had one hand shielding Nearne.
His other devastated anything which came close.
Lux struck out with his staff, sending blasts of green smashing through a handful of draug. It obliterated them, turning undead flesh to ash. He wiped gore from his coat, muttered a few curses, then arched his neck so he could listen for something beyond her hearing.
Gritting her teeth, she gave her arm a deliberate shake so the bell tinkled softly.
He smiled, nodding in her direction.
Then an arrow whistled from above, splashing into the forehead of a hobbling draug to her left. It dropped, clawing at its head.
More arrows.
Some bearing oil-soaked cloth set aflame. Fire seemed to leap onto the draug as they were struck, whooshing brightly to send the creatures wheeling back into the fog. Others hooted as the newcomers rose from their positions along some of the bridges above.
Raiders.
Dressed in patched wool and mesh armour. They shouted down at the draug, strings of mocking taunts which ignited interest from the undead creatures. The draug launched themselves at the nearest walls, trying to climb.
“Nysta!”
Her voice, shouted down again. The voice she’d heard before.
Ainu.
But she couldn’t see the young raider. Could only hear her shouts. And had no time to shout back as a couple of draug lost their inhuman patience and tumbled into her, mouths open to rip and tear.
Panic.
She slashed wildly, raking Queen of Hearts across the throat of one. The black enchantment snatched at flesh, tearing chunks free and sending dark spikes darting into the creature’s throat. Black slime and putrid blood gushed in equal measure.
Stink like rotting fish and decayed meat.
Gagging, she tore the belly open of the second with A Flaw in the Glass. The blade glowed with venom as it bit deep, but couldn’t cut deep enough. The bindings around her fist felt loosened and the blade dragged without much force through skin.
Still, the draug let out a hoarse squeal and scratched at the wound as though it itched. A couple of arrows suddenly impaled its head. One found its shoulder. It dropped with a wet gurgle, but didn’t die.
Just kept rolling on its sides, clutching its belly and shaking its head to try dislodging the arrows. She kicked the creature away from her, boot snapping its head back so hard its neck shattered with a loud crunch.
Taking advantage of her frantic defence, the third draug lunged into her chest. Head low, it managed to push its mouth through a gap in her open jacket and snapped at her undershirt. Jagged teeth sawed through cloth and found skin. Bone. Arms wrapped around tight enough to trap Queen of Hearts against her hip.
She couldn’t tug free.
Shrieking, she pounded at the withered head with her useless fist. Couldn’t get the strength into it to push the creature away or work her trapped arm free.
Flaw in the Glass slashed the back of its neck, but the draug kept worrying at her body.
Kept burrowing. Trying to break inside her torso as it sensed weakness and was driven to feverish delight.
Feet.
The thought slammed into her head.
And she kicked. Kicked as hard as she could. Again and again. Kicking the creature in its guts. Its hip. Its chest. The dead arms, wrapped around her torso, finally loosened and she kicked harder. Quicker. Desperation causing her breath to come in tight gasps.
The worms in her body felt slow. The pain more intense as the draug’s teeth tore into her. And she was reminded of Chukshene’s words. That there’d be a limit.
There’d be something she couldn’t walk away from.
Would this be it?
“Fucking draug,” she spat, finally able to leverage her arm free. Fury calmed the panic and the icy ball in her guts suddenly flared as rage speckled her vision and she coolly lifted Queen of Hearts. Crossed her other forearm over the back of the handle and used her weight to drive the knife to its hilt into the draug’s back.
Queen of Hearts exploded inside the body, black ribbons of its enchantment sweeping through rotting muscle and meat. Tore everything loose, collapsing the remains of its insides with a rancid puff of steam.
The elf flinched as the body dropped, leaving her standing with the steaming knife in her broken fist. She staggered sideways, chest feeling raw and body burning with new kinds of agony.
Lux let loose another arc of green plasma. He was almost out on his feet. Head bowed. Body bent almost double. Face aimed at the floor. Leaning on his staff so heavily it was bowed itself.
Rockjaw swung with a ragged mechanical movement. His arms probably had no feeling left. He bled from countless wounds.
But a couple of raiders were also there. Beards splashed with gore. Where they’d come from, or how they’d fought to be here, she couldn’t say. They shouldered in close with shield and axe. Hook and sword. A few archers sent arrows thwipping into the fray.
They were running out of arrows fast.
Two raiders appeared next to her, jogging out of the fog.
“You Nysta?”
She nodded, accepting her name.
“We’ve got a healer up there. So, hold on, lass. We’re with Nemo. There’s more of us on the way. Just had to find our way down is all, and that weren’t easy.” He lashed out with a heavy sword, sending a creeping draug spinning away without its head. He prepared himself to hack its limbs from its body. “Fucking mad bastard’s lost it proper this time.”
Her legs felt like her knees turned to sponge. She leaned against the stone wall. Watched her blood glide down the dark stone face and sighed as Lux roared her name.
“Seems everyone’s shouting my name lately,” she muttered. “And no one even bought me a beer first.”
The raiders fended off a few more draug. One earned a few deep cuts
across his face. He wiped it with the back of his mailed fist. Grinned broadly.
“Nysta!” Lux called again. “Get over here!”
“Oh, shit me,” the raider croaked. Pointed into the fog. “Look at him.”
She lifted her gaze as the Madman finally shuffled out of the glowing yellow fog and showed his form.
He was was nightmares made flesh.
The Vampire Lord had been tall. Almost as tall as Rockjaw, who towered over her. Now the Madman walked hunched over, dwarfed by his burden. Head having to work to lift high enough to peer forward. Craning on scrawny neck. Each step was slow.
It had to be, because he bore the weight of another on his shoulders. A creature which belonged in the murky depths of the sea. Its corpulent body lay across the Madman’s back like the dead thing it should have been. Soft white flesh layered beneath wrinkled red and black skin.
Bright green chitinous plates, cracked and broken, rimmed its long tentacle arms and peeled from its crusted mantle. Bulbous and lacking bone, the kraken’s body had once been massive but was now mostly torn away to leave shredded scraps.
Strings of its innards slopped down the Madman’s back, dragging along behind.
He could never have lifted the weight of the full thing, but enough of its body still remained to nearly smother the Vampire Lord and wrap him in thick tentacles. Tentacles which reached and curled with vapid hunger. Thorned suckers opened and closed like flowers reaching for sunlight and being turned away by the dark.
The giant kraken’s eye, almost as big as the Vampire Lord himself, stared heavy-lidded. Dark pupil deformed and shivering within a rich golden iris binding it together.
In the blackness of its ancient eye, the void looked back at the elf and filled her with dread.
These two bodies, born separate, were now fused. Fused by sickly yellow energy which worked the magic keeping them alive. Both still bore wounds inflicted thousands of years before. Wounds which still bled thick black gore and seawater.
A smeared trail ran like a tainted ribbon of slime in their wake.
The Madman’s face twitched with the effort of each dragging step, eyes barely open. Slitted, they hid his thoughts.