by Duncan Pile
Gaspi came to his senses and fell to his knees, holding his head in his hands. Someone was vomiting nearby, but he didn’t even open his eyes to see who it was.
Gaspi’s stomach started to settle after a while, and he was finally able to take stock of their surroundings. Others were stirring too, rising to their feet. A flash of green light told him Loreill had transformed, matched by a rush of relief through the bond.
“Where are we?” Baard asked.
It was fully dark by that point, so Gaspi summoned a globe-light. They had appeared atop a large mound of earth, marked by a rough wooden signpost.
“We should move,” Hephistole said, but Gaspi ignored him. He moved to the sign and read the crudely-carved words aloud the light of the globe:
Here lie the villagers of West Farthing, cut down in their prime by the unrighteous. They will not be forgotten.
“It’s a mass grave,” he muttered.
Emmy rushed from the mound, and moments later they all stood at its side.
“What killed ’em?” Baard asked, eyeing the grave askance. “Some kind of disease?”
“Of a sort. This is Ferast’s handiwork.”
Gaspi looked at the grave and shuddered. After all the horrors he had witnessed it took a lot to shock him but he’d grown up in a village, and the thought of a whole community being slaughtered in cold blood was unthinkable.
“Why bring us here?” he asked hoarsely.
“I can only transport to a place I can envisage, and this site has been described to me in great detail, including the wording on the sign. Sorry Gaspi, but this is as close to the ruins as I could get.”
“He’ll pay fer this,” Baard growled. “My ogres need summit ter do. I’ll send’em after ’im – tell’em to tear ’im limb from limb.”
“Ferast will have to wait,” Hephistole said. “We’re here for Sestin.”
“Right yeh are,” Baard said. “He’ll keep, but not fer long.”
“Everyone ready to move?” Hephistole said, receiving grunted responses from the group, who were still feeling the last effects of transportation.
“Gather round,” Hephistole said.
“What’re we doin’?” Baard asked.
“It’s a good twenty miles to the Ruined City,” Hephistole said. “I can’t take us straight there but we can transport in a series of short hops. If I can see it, I can get us there.”
“Won’t that alert Sestin to our presence?” Rimulth asked.
“It might, but we’ve already made that decision I think – even now he could be torturing Voltan and rousing the Dark God from his prison. We must take our chances.”
Gaspi nodded. “Hephistole’s right. Let’s go.”
“Gather round,” Hephistole repeated, and the group quickly formed up, linking arms. “Convoke.”
Forty-three
The terrain was undulating and heavily wooded, which meant numerous short hops from hilltop to moonlit glade, from clearing to valley floor as the night progressed. Twice they were forced to trek through dense patches of woodland before they had any kind of view of what lay ahead. They had to move slowly, careful to avoid tripping over roots and other hazards in the dark.
At long last Hephistole brought them to a stop at the base of a steep-sided canyon. “The ruins begin at the top of this rise,” he said, looking intently into each of their faces. “Once we enter Sestin’s lair, there’s no going back. We play this out to the end. If anyone wants to back out, this is the time to do it.”
No-one spoke up.
“So let’s go,” Sabu said.
The chancellor nodded. “Sabu, you take the lead.”
They set off, hurrying up the slope as swiftly and as quietly as they could. Gaspi listened intently as he walked, ready to draw power at a moment’s notice, but all he could hear were the rustlings of nocturnal forest creatures. The further they went, the fainter those sounds became, until they left them behind altogether. The silence was taut, broken only by the rasp of their own laboured breathing. The hairs on the back of Gaspi’s neck began to stand up.
“Everyone stop,” he hissed. The slope evened out up ahead, and the first outlying buildings were visible through the gloom. “There’s something wrong.”
“Too right,” Baard said, rubbing at his goose-pimpled flesh.
“Anyone else feel it?” Gaspi asked.
“Uh huh,” Taurnil responded, echoed by others.
“A compulsion perhaps?” Gaspi said.
“More like a warning,” Taurnil added. “You know – keep clear, no trespassing, that sort of thing?”
Hephistole frowned. “This feels like a fear effect to me; the kind that demons emit, like a Bale-beast.”
“Or a Darkman,” Gaspi said.
“Let’s hope not,” Taurnil said, blanching.
“Whatever it is, we’re going to have to deal with it,” Hephistole said, his expression grim. He signalled to Sabu. “Let’s keep moving, but everyone stay doubly alert.”
They drew near to the outlying structures on the very fringe of the city – ivy-choked, crumbling buildings that must once have been homes.
Gaspi’s eyes were everywhere, his disquiet intensifying with every step. The others clearly felt it too, walking with hunched shoulders, their hands never far from the hilts of their weapons.
They passed dozens of dilapidated homes before stopping once more as they set foot on a broader street, stretching ahead of them into the darkness. Silhouettes loomed on every side – domes and spires, some of them in ruins and others perfectly preserved. It was a forest of shadows, giving a fleeting impression of long-lost grandeur.
Gaspi was becoming increasingly convinced they were being watched, and hurried forward to speak to Sabu. “Taurn and I should take the lead,” he said. “If we’re attacked by a demon, we’re best-equipped to handle it.”
Sabu peered at him shrewdly for a moment before bowing his head. “Talmo and I will take the rear.”
“Thanks,” Gaspi said. “Everyone else draw your weapons. Something’s coming for us. ”
They moved forward at a snail’s pace, glancing in every darkened doorway and down every shadowed alleyway. The sense of dread gripped Gaspi more tightly by the moment. It was worse than any demon-fear he’d experienced; even the Darkman hadn’t shaken him in this way. Every footstep was a battle against the urge to turn and flee. His legs were shaky and weak; his heartbeat thudded uncomfortably in his throat. Fear battered him like a gale. It took all his courage to keep going, placing one trembling foot in front of the other. He glanced at Emmy and saw that she was pale as a ghost, sweat beading on her forehead. Lydia was gritting her teeth and Rimulth’s expression was closed, his eyes narrowed to slits.
Gaspi froze, sure he’d seen something move through a gap in the houses.
“What is it?” Hephistole asked, stopping beside him.
Gaspi pointed. “I thought I saw something, over there…through that gap, near that cluster of buildings.”
Everyone turned to look, weapons at the ready.
Gaspi held his breath for long, anxious moments, watching the spot intently, but there was no further sign of movement. Perhaps he’d been mistaken.
“Gasp,” Taurnil hissed. “The staff.” It was glowing – faintly at first, but it seemed to be getting brighter.
“Demon,” Gaspi said, spinning out to face the darkness once more. His body was flooded with nervous energy.
“We fight it here,” Sabu said. “The ground’s open, so we’ll see it coming.
“Everyone form a circle,” Gaspi said, and the group fanned out, weapons at the ready.
Gaspi raked the dark streets with his eyes, waiting in tense silence for the demon to show itself. Nobody said a word. There was no sign of their foe, but Taurnil’s staff continued to shine.
“There,” Sabu said at last, pointing down a side street. It was impossible to make much out in the gloom, but something had rushed from one side to the other, shadowy and swift.
“Whatever it is, it’s huge,” Jonn said, his knuckles whitening on the grips of his swords.
Gaspi summoned power, but found he had little to draw from. He’d do what he could, but this fight was going to be down to the warriors and their enchanted weapons.
He almost jumped out of his skin when something massive came boiling out of the cavernous building closest to them, galloping across the ground on malformed appendages. It was foul, a mountain of dead human flesh. Hands, arms, legs and feet protruded at random from its bulbous body, on which sat a swollen human head, grossly fat with a slavering mouth and small piggy eyes. In the centre of its chest was another face; the gaping visage of a terrified and bewildered person, its mouth hanging permanently open and its eyes flitting nervously from side to side.
It was almost upon them before Gaspi could react. He threw out a force strike, which slammed into the demon’s chest and knocked it back a dozen yards, but it was advancing again within moments, seemingly unharmed. Talmo was firing arrows as fast as he could, several of them protruding from its chest and one from its temple, but they didn’t seem to bother it either. Hephistole summoned an opalescent shield and cast it before the monster, which flung itself at it without hesitation. It was thrown back, but righted itself and crashed against the barrier once more. Again and again it dashed itself against the shield, its anger increasing with each failed attempt.
Gaspi glanced at Hephistole and saw him wincing when the demon struck the shield.
“I can’t keep this up,” he said through gritted teeth.
Gaspi nodded. “Loreill, protect Jonn, Lilly, protect Taurn.”
The elementals transformed in a heartbeat and flitted inside each of the warriors.
“Sabu, Jonn, Taurn, this one’s on you. Everyone else keep your distance. That means you too Baard,” he said, seeing rebellion on the big man’s face. “This demon is some kind of Snatcher which means it can possess you, so stay clear okay?”
He waited for Baard’s nod before continuing. “Loreill and Lilly will protect Jonn and Taurnil, and Sabu’s already protected by the fragment in his shoulder.”
“Gaspi…” Hephistole warned, his voice hoarse.
“Let’s get on with it,” Sabu said, slipping out to the front of the group and interposing himself between them and the demon, which continued to throw itself at the barrier. Jonn and Taurnil took up positions on his flanks. The three of them exchanged a determined glance.
Gaspi turned to Hephistole. “On three, drop your shield. One…two…three.”
All three warriors rushed at the demon. It reared and tried to crush Sabu, but he darted out of the way and slashed at a wriggling arm, severing it at the elbow. The beast roared in pain, its flesh sizzling at the touch of Sabu’s blade. Jonn scored a deep wound in the sagging flesh of its side, which split like rotten fruit, but the demon-bane enchantment on Jonn’s weapons didn’t seem to hurt it nearly so much. Turning with unnatural speed, it bore down on Taurnil, who stood his ground and rammed the butt of his staff into its face. Blue fire coursed down the staff and the creature bellowed in pain, knocking Taurnil away with a swollen arm.
Gaspi’s heart was beating out of his chest, terrified for his friend, but Taurnil rolled out of the way even as it humped towards him and slammed its enormous body on the spot he’d just occupied. It swivelled and struck Taurnil in the chest before he could land another blow. He was knocked away, bouncing helplessly across the ground until his head hit a rock with a sickening smack. It felt like time had stopped. Taurnil wasn’t moving, blood pooling on the ground beneath his head.
“Taurnil!” Lydia cried.
The beast moved in for the kill but Sabu leapt onto its back and dashed towards its head. The beast reared and Sabu was flung away, crashing into a wall where he lay, dazed.
Jonn stuck both blades into its belly and ripped it open. Gaspi half expected its guts to come boiling out, but the wound was pale and greasy, devoid of blood. The demon grabbed him by his shoulders and raised him into the air, its mouth agape. Jonn struggled and cried out, trying to break its hold, but it had him firmly in its grasp. Gaspi threw a strike – feeble by his usual standards – which hit it in the gut, but the beast barely flinched. Talmo shot arrow after arrow into the arms that held Jonn captive, but they didn’t slow it either. The demon lifted Jonn higher, drawing him nearer to its open mouth.
Talmo shot it in the eye just as it was about to bite down on Jonn’s skull. Roaring in pain, it let go of Jonn and swiped at the arrow, snapping its shaft but driving the arrowhead deeper into its skull.
Jonn tumbled to the ground even as the beast turned and lumbered towards Talmo. The bowman held his ground, loosing an arrow that only just missed its remaining eye. Gaspi drew power again and Jonn threw himself at it, but neither of them were fast enough. Talmo nocked another arrow and released it as the beast loomed over him, hitting its other eye at last, but the demon was already upon him, knocking him to the ground with the fleshy stump of its severed arm.
“No!” Rimulth cried as Talmo’s back arched, his body spasming wildly. Rimulth drew a knife and launched himself at the demon, but Gaspi caught him by the arm and held him fast.
“You can’t help!” he barked. “Rimulth, stay here!”
On the demon’s far side, Taurnil had risen to his feet, limbed in blue light. Gaspi experienced a huge rush of relief. Lilly must have healed his wounds. Sabu too had staggered to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. With all three warriors back in action, and the demon badly wounded, they had a chance.
The demon was blind now, questing about with its flabby body. Sabu picked up his fallen blades and rushed towards it on agile feet. He slashed its flank, opening an oily, sizzling wound. The creature reared in pain and Taurnil rushed under it, thrusting the butt of his staff deep into its rotten flesh. Blue fire coursed the length of the staff and the creature reared, roaring in agony. Taurnil was lifted from the ground, clinging to his flaming staff as if his life depended on it. The misshapen appendages on the demon’s underside twitched grotesquely as fire ran through its body. Flame burst from its eyes and mouth, and with a final convulsion it collapsed, burying Taurnil beneath it.
“Taurn!” Gaspi cried, rushing to the fallen monster. He reached out with his power and blasted the creature away. It landed a dozen feet away and flopped to its side. Taurnil’s skin was grey, his eyes wide with fear. He tried to speak, but only managed a bloody gargle, which frothed on his lips.
“No!” Lydia cried, rushing to his side and falling to her knees. She clung desperately to his hand. “Emmy, do something!”
Emmy was already at work, whispering quietly but insistently under her breath. Elemental magic began to flow, thick and powerful, perhaps more powerful than Gaspi had ever felt before. Emmy’s voice rose in volume and intensity, hardening to a series of sharp syllables. Jonn’s hand came to rest on Gaspi’s shoulder as energy surged potently around them. Taurnil’s entire body was encased in light. Emmy’s chanting rose to a forceful and commanding shout and the light became dazzling – too brilliant to look upon – until with one last blinding surge it was gone.
Lilly rose from Taurnil’s body and Taurnil sat up, patting himself all over. Lydia slid her arms around him and held him tight, her face wet with tears.
“Thanks Emmy,” Taurnil said. “I thought I was a goner.”
“You’re lucky to be alive,” Emmy said. “Your ribs were shattered and one of your lungs was pierced. Lilly saved your life.”
“I have never seen a person come back from such injuries,” Sabu said, shaking his head in wonder.
“What about Talmo?” Taurnil asked, his gaze flitting to the warrior’s fallen body, over which Rimulth knelt, tears flowing down his face.
“He is gone,” the tribesman said. He looked up and met Gaspi’s gaze, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling with tears.
Gaspi walked over and placed a hand on Rimulth’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Rimulth.”
Rimul
th nodded, the tears streaming down his face. “He shouldn’t have come.”
“Could you have stopped him?” Gaspi asked.
Rimulth shook his head. “He was a warrior of Eagle’s Roost. He would not be left behind. Gaspi, I must perform the Rite of Farewell.”
“We will come back for him, Rimulth, I promise, but first we must finish this thing.”
Rimulth nodded, his sadness palpable, and closed Talmo’s staring eyes.
Gaspi squeezed his shoulder and walked over to the vanquished demon with a heavy heart. Their victory felt hollow in the light of Talmo’s death, but he also knew they’d been lucky. Many more of them could have died in the fight.
The demon lay lifeless on the ground, rolls of decaying flesh giving off the most unbelievable smell. Taurnil’s staff had snapped, half its length protruding from the gaping mouth of the human face in the centre of the demon’s chest. The terrified, darting eyes were still at last, devoid of fear. The demon was unlike any Snatcher Gaspi had seen or heard of. On closer inspection, its enormous bulk was an amalgamation of body parts, presumably taken from its many victims. Gaspi shuddered. Talmo had at least been spared such a fate.
Rimulth walked over and met Gaspi’s gaze. “I’m ready.”
Gaspi nodded. “Then let’s move on.”
“Where to?” Baard asked.
“There’s only one place to go,” Hephistole said. “To the tower.”
Forty-four
When Voltan came to, he found himself suspended from some kind of harness at the rear of a cavernous, circular room. The walls, which rose to form a domed ceiling, looked like they were made of granite – grey, shot through with veins of amber. There were no windows and only one exit – a pair of double doors on the far side of the chamber. He was suspended above a smooth, basalt altar, all of one piece, and before him was a pit, its gently sloping sides smooth and slick. Mist swirled in its depths, shot through with flickers of reddish light and dark, shifting shadows.
Voltan was seized by sudden dread. Where had Sestin taken him? His joints were afire, which told him he’d been hanging from the harness for some time. His shoulders had taken the worst of the strain, and felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets.