The rest of us stopped as well. In the silence that fell around us, there came wet smacking sounds. They were followed by heavy breathing, then more tearing, smacking noises.
Something ahead of us was eating.
The fine hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Hattie had gone the color of milk, but she gripped her knives and started to step forward.
Rupert grabbed her by the shoulder. He shook his head at her startled look. Clearing his throat, he said, “This is Rupert Endicott. Is anyone there?”
There came a groaning shuffle, and three people mutated in the same fashion as Earnest emerged from behind the rock. One of them still clutched a half-eaten rat in her dirty hands.
“We’re here to help you,” Rupert said. “We’re going to fix—”
The hideous red tentacle of the nearest one snapped in his direction, uncoiling with tremendous force and speed. Iskander yanked Rupert back by his collar, barely preventing the thing from grabbing him. Droplets of acid slime must have struck Rupert in the face, though, since he cried out and wiped his sleeve across his cheek.
Christine stepped in and bashed it across the head with her cudgel. The other two lunged in her direction, and I lay frost across their skin. They cringed back, and I grabbed Christine’s arm and hauled her out of their reach.
“Blast and damnation! If only I had my rifle,” she exclaimed. “Or at least my flaming arrows.”
Mother and Griffin both rushed to help. Should I channel fire through Griffin’s sword cane again? Or perhaps—
“Whyborne, look out,” Christine cried, pointing behind us. “More of them!”
Another three loped up the passage on all fours, their limbs moving in such an unnatural manner it brought bile to my throat. One of them howled wordlessly, and the pack began to race toward us much faster than I’d imagined such twisted creatures could move. They must have been in one of the side corridors in the ruins of the masters below, and come up behind us after we’d passed.
Christine gripped her cudgel. “Don’t just stand there, Whyborne, do something. Cast a spell!”
“I would if you’d give me a second to concentrate,” I snapped.
Centering myself, I drew in a deep breath. Arcane lines flowed beneath my feet, and though this vortex was but an eddy in a pond compared to the maelstrom, its power was more than adequate.
“Hold on,” I advised her.
For a second time in an hour, I seized the air itself, pushing it to obey my will. The blast roared before me, wind funneled from a thousand tiny cracks in the rock, building on itself until it exploded in the faces of the monsters closing in on us.
The gale tore at my clothing and Christine’s hair, but I braced myself. The full brunt was reserved for the mutated Endicotts before me, but startled shouts betrayed the fact some of it had caught my companions as well. Griffin’s tie blew past me, accompanied by centuries of dust and grit.
The mutated forms closing on us staggered back, one striking the wall with stunning force. Before the other two could regroup, I reached out with my will again, focused on the roof above them—and pulled.
Stones shattered and toppled. The ground shook beneath my feet, and for a horrible instant I thought I’d gone too far, and caused a collapse that would bury us all. I shoved Christine down, seeking to shield her with my own body.
A few errant pebbles struck my shoulders and a cloud of dust enveloped us. But the roof didn’t crush us, and the sounds of the collapse died away.
Christine pushed me off of her. Before she could speak, Rupert Endicott appeared out of the dust, fists clenched.
“You may lack anything resembling subtlety,” he said, “but I didn’t expect you to try to kill us as well!”
Iskander rushed to help Christine up. I hung my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be quite so…large…a collapse. Is everyone all right?”
Griffin wiped dust and blood from his sword cane. “We’re fine, my dear. But please, do try to exercise some caution in the future.”
Christine fixed me with a glare of cold fury. “This is a unique archaeological site, Whyborne. How could you vandalize it in such a fashion?”
Horror swamped me. “Oh God.” I put a hand to my mouth. This was what I’d come to—destroying a neolithic monument like some sort of ignorant treasure hunter dynamiting a tomb. “I didn’t think.”
“Obviously.” She turned her back on me with a disdainful sniff.
Rupert splashed some water from his canteen onto a handkerchief and used it to clean his spectacles. While everyone else took the opportunity to catch their breath, I cautiously approached the Endicott I had blown against the wall. It had been—still was, I supposed—a woman. Her hair was matted, body starvation-thin, and clothing disheveled and stiff with dirt. I drew just close enough to be certain she was dead, her neck at an unnatural angle.
Except, even as I started to turn away, she stirred. The tentacle protruding from her face seemed to dissolve, revealing features that shimmered oddly, as though viewed through water. Her head turned with the grate of broken bone, but the gaze that met mine was utterly lifeless.
“I know what you are,” she said.
Chapter 25
Griffin
“Dear God!” Whyborne shouted, taking a step back from the corpse.
The fading glow of an abandoned spell clung to its head. I swore and rushed to his side. “What happened?”
His dark eyes had gone round, and all the color drained from his skin. “Didn’t you hear it? See it?”
Christine frowned. “What are you going on about?”
Whyborne swallowed and pointed at the dead woman. “Her face…the tentacle disappeared. She looked at me and said she knew who I was. No, that’s not right—she said she knew what I was.”
My heart sank. This was what I’d feared, when I argued for him to remain behind in Widdershins. Someone—something—in this wicked pile knew his true nature. Whether the Fideles or some evil of the masters that lingered in this lightless place, it would surely turn its efforts toward his destruction.
But it was too late to resurrect our argument now, and “I told you so’s” useless, so I only said, “I can see the remains of the spell. It’s similar to the enchantment on the bas-relief.”
“None of the rest of us saw or heard anything.” Rupert’s expression was grim. “This must be some trick of the Fideles. Perhaps one of their sorcerers has something of yours, allowing him to focus his magics on you? Blood or hair would do it, as would seed.”
“Dear lord!” Whyborne exclaimed, face going red.
“I was merely listing the most common substances used in such magic,” Rupert replied mildly.
“I don’t see any traces of a spell on Whyborne,” I said over Whyborne’s wordless sputtering. “Whatever is at work here, it isn’t traditional sorcery.” Which wasn’t at all comforting. If it had been so simple, we could have used the curse breaker spell. As it was, I had no idea how to protect him from it.
“And what does that imply?” Rupert asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I doubt I would have seen the influence of the dweller, if I’d had my shadowsight at the time, because it was something that came from within. Something intrinsic to Whyborne’s nature thanks to his ketoi blood, not a spell per se. But Heliabel is unaffected, so it can’t be that.” I hated not knowing; I hated feeling helpless to shield my husband.
Rupert sighed heavily. “I wish I had learned more about the creation of warding amulets, but it’s a bit too late for that now. As it seems there’s nothing further to be done, let’s continue on.”
“One moment, Rupert.” Hattie stepped into his path. “First, tell me what the bloody hell were you thinking?”
Impatience thinned his lips. “About what?”
“Giving us away.” Hattie pointed at the corpses. “We might’ve snuck up on them. Gotten the drop. Instead, you go shouting and give them the chance to attack first. Why?”
“B
ecause they’re our family.” His hands clenched at his sides. “We can’t just go murdering them. We have to give them a chance. We have to try to save them. Supra alia familia.”
The anger drained from Hattie’s face, replaced by grief. “Look at them, Rupert,” she said softly. “Would you want to live like that?”
He didn’t reply. An unexpected ache arose in my chest. “My partner, Glenn…an enslaved umbra dissolved his face. I found him still screaming, and I…ended his suffering.” Whyborne put a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I touched the backs of his fingers in thanks. “It was the only mercy I could offer him. These poor wretches…their minds are gone.”
Rupert’s hands relaxed. “I know.”
“I’m sorry,” Iskander said to him. “Truly. But Griffin and Hattie are right. They seem to have no notion of who they are or what’s happening to them. God only knows how long they’ve been like this. Months, probably. You’ve given them relief from their pain.”
Rupert didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I suspected he fought back tears. Then he nodded. “You’re right. Let’s just…let’s just keep going.”
We all fell in behind him. “I never thought I’d feel sorry for the Endicotts,” Whyborne murmured in my ear.
“Agreed.” I kept my sword cane unsheathed in my right hand, but with my left I hooked my fingers loosely around his for comfort. But as we followed the slow climb of the passageway, I realized the mutated Endicotts were the least of my fears.
Whatever had done this to them, whatever was using the very walls and dead to stalk Whyborne…it was powerful. And if we were to take back Carn Moreth and Balefire Manor, we’d have to face it sooner or later. I could only pray we were prepared.
Chapter 26
Whyborne
The passageway continued to spiral upward. I clung to the hope we might soon emerge from this underground hell, but after a few minutes of walking we came not to the upper air, but instead to another set of ruins.
By the time we reached the end of the neolithic passage, the witch lights had grown noticeably dimmer. I didn’t bother to remark on it, but I hoped we’d soon be back in the daylight. Ordinarily I might at least be able to set fire to a torn piece of cloth to supply a temporary substitute, but our clothing was still far too damp from our immersion in the ocean.
The passage ended in a sort of crude doorway, just as the initial corridor had done. And once again, the spiral continued on, this time in what was unmistakably Roman construction.
“How very interesting,” Christine remarked. She paused and examined the masonry walls, the arched ceiling. “Was there a Roman outpost here at one time, I wonder? Mr. Endicott?”
Rupert seemed glad to have something to think about other than the horrors visited on his relatives. “I believe so, yes. A small garrison—more of a lookout than anything else. The records are fragmentary, but there is mention of Roman era ruins being cleared away when Balefire was constructed.”
“Appalling!” Christine’s nostrils flared in indignation. “Your ancestors destroyed an archaeological site to build their accursed house? I knew your family was evil at the root, but I didn’t realize just how far it went. No wonder Whyborne has turned into a wrecking ball.”
Iskander put a hand to his forehead. “Christine, please. This isn’t the time.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I protested, though of course she was right. “But there is some good news. If Balefire was built atop Roman ruins, then we should be getting close to the surface.”
“I’ll be glad to see the sun again,” Griffin said. “I’m much better with underground spaces that I once was, but I’ll admit the situation is beginning to wear on me.”
“On us all,” Iskander agreed.
I glanced at Mother. “You’ve been out of the water for a while now. How are you feeling?”
“My feet are sore,” she confessed. “These stones aren’t kind, but I fear they don’t make shoes in my size.”
Christine let out a bark of laughter. “True enough.”
Mother nodded at Christine’s feet. “How are yours?”
“Swollen and hurting like the devil.” Christine tapped her cudgel in her palm. “I do hope I get to take my frustrations out on a few Fideles before this is over.”
“Perhaps you should sit down and rest for a bit?” I asked uncertainly, though there wasn’t really anywhere convenient save the hard floor.
She let out an exasperated huff. “Oh yes, we’ll just ask the Fideles to hold off for a bit while I take a brief nap.”
We’d only gone a short distance further when a breath of fresher air touched my face.
“Does anyone else feel that?” Rupert asked. “I think we’re getting close to the surface.”
Hattie held up a restraining hand. “We need to go slow. Not get excited and rush right into a trap.”
I swallowed back my impatience, knowing she was correct. For a time, nothing other than the breeze indicated we were drawing closer to the surface. But eventually the silence, which had been broken only by our footsteps, changed in character. A sort of hum I felt in my teeth, more than heard with my ears.
As we curved steadily upward, the sounds of distant howls and cries joined it.
“Does anyone else hear that?” I asked cautiously.
Griffin nodded. “Yes. It’s real, not a spell.”
“What the devil is it?” Christine wondered. “More of those mutated people?”
“Probably.” Rupert looked haggard, but his mouth was set in a determined line. “Hattie, scout ahead. The rest of us will wait for you here.”
She nodded. How she would see without a witch light, I couldn’t guess, but she vanished quickly into the shadows ahead.
It seemed we stood there forever in the encroaching dark. The glowing liquid in the glass bottles had faded now to offer no more radiance than a candle. My skin crawled, and my imagination populated the shadows behind us with loping figures.
Hattie reappeared at the edge of our light, so suddenly I jumped. My heart sank at the ashen cast to her skin.
“The passage lets out into a big room. Huge. And it’s…it’s crawling with them.”
Rupert closed his eyes. “How many?”
“Nine or ten, probably. We might be able to sneak around them, though. They’re all clustered near…well, you’ll see for yourself. But we have to go through the room. There doesn’t seem to be any other way out.”
“Did you see an exit?” Griffin asked.
She nodded. “There’s a door. A regular looking door, like anywhere else in the house. It was shut, but I bet it leads out into Balefire. If we can just get through the room, we’ll finally reach the manor itself.”
Chapter 27
Griffin
We moved forward as stealthily as possible. Hattie took the lead, and I followed her. My shadowsight would reveal any magical traps or active spells, which could prove essential if her plan was to work. Behind me came Whyborne, followed by Christine, Iskander, Heliabel, and Rupert.
The room ahead would have to be truly vast if we were to slip past the mutated Endicotts undetected. At least there was no need to douse what remained of the witch lights. The creatures had no eyes to see us with.
As we moved closer, I became aware of a purple light, which seemed to hover right on the edge of vision. “Do you see a glow?” Whyborne whispered behind me.
“Yes,” I murmured. “We shouldn’t speak unless we must, lest they hear us. Just stay with me, my dear.”
The violet glow grew stronger. The white cloth of my shirt reflected it strangely, and a glance back showed Whyborne’s did as well. It made him look like the disembodied ghost of a man hacked to pieces, arms and collar floating independently in the air. Heliabel’s markings went from dark blue to an eerie purple, and all of our teeth looked shockingly bright, though tinged with violet.
“What the devil?” Christine whispered. “Is this some sort of strange spell?”
“No,” I r
eplied. “I see no trace of the arcane. It seems to be some property of the light.”
The endless spiral of the passageway finally came to an end. Beyond was a truly colossal room, just as Hattie had said.
It looked as though someone had hollowed out the hill itself. The room was riven from solid rock, massive columns left in place to support the titanic weight of the earth and manor house above. Magic, similar to that in the ruins built by the masters, striated the stone, no doubt doing its part to prevent a collapse.
Someone—or something—had carved patterns into the floor, though the scale was too large to make out what was being represented from ground level. The patterns glowed in the bizarre light, purple here, orange there, shocking green elsewhere.
Was this where the ketoi and their hybrid kin once carried out their rituals? Or was this great hall older still?
The source of the unsettling violet glow pierced the center of the cavern. A great hexagonal pillar of purple-black stone rose from the floor and vanished into the ceiling. Strange carvings, similar to those far below, spiraled up the stone; the whole thing glowed with arcane energy in my shadowsight.
Streams of arcane fire poured through the walls, floor, and ceiling, twining around the black stone like yarn around a needle. The stone stood at the very heart of the vortex, rooted unimaginably far below us, and towering up through the layers of earth and rock until it reached the free air somewhere on the other side of the chamber ceiling.
“Morgen’s Needle.” Hattie’s whisper was scarcely louder than a breath. Her lips parted with shock and her skin appeared dark in the unearthly light.
Mutated Endicotts clustered all around the Needle where it pierced the floor, and it was from them the piteous howls came. Their filthy clothes barely reflected any of the violet light, but the slime and red skin of their tentacle faces glowed horribly bright. Some stood on two legs, others on four, but all were uniformly filthy. The gnawed bones of rats lay scattered about on the floor, but they were accompanied by other bones which had clearly once been human.
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