by Adam Carter
“There’s a door,” Asperathes said.
Valok had not noticed it, but could see it now, ahead of them in the gloom. He sent his light ball to investigate, but it revealed nothing dangerous. The door was wrought of strong iron and was bolted with a heavy slab of metal. It was also the only way they could proceed, but Valok was nervous about taking this route.
“Give me a hand with this,” Crenshaw said, trying to raise the bar alone.
“I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” Valok said. “There are rumours about the baroness, about what she keeps in the lower levels.”
“You mean the demons or the bestiary?” Crenshaw asked, putting his shoulder into the effort.
“You know about them and you’re still trying to open the door?”
“There are thousands of soldiers coming after us and there haven’t been any turnings for ages. If we go back the way we came we’ll run into them and will be forced back to this position anyway. Best thing we can do is get this door open and not believe in monsters.”
“What wonderful choices we have,” Asperathes said and lent his own efforts to raising the bar.
Valok could not believe his two companions were being so nonchalant about this. Now he knew they were frauds, he was seeing them in a different light. They were, however, as arrogant as heroes could have been, so there was every chance they believed the hype they had fabricated about themselves.
His fears, however, turned back to the door before them. There had always been rumours about how the baroness had gained so much power and how she had ruled virtually unchallenged for so many decades. Valok knew some of them were true, or at least there were some that he thought were true.
One of the most bizarre theories was that the baroness consorted with demons, had sold her soul to them, had even married one. Valok had also heard that she ate demons, which was ludicrous; in fact, it was all ludicrous since demons did not exist any more than dragons.
Crenshaw and Asperathes had raised the bar and set it to one side and were now in the process of heaving the door open. Why the baroness saw the need to have such a thick heavy door in place, Valok could not say and did not like to speculate. He tried not to think about one of the more useful properties of iron, in that it was fatal to faeries. To think there might be any number of the creatures beyond the door was almost enough to make Valok want to turn round and face the soldiers instead.
Again he sent the ball of light ahead, but the darkness was so total the ball was having a difficult time making any noticeable difference. Valok poured more energy into it, but expanding it to any useful degree would have cost him as much energy as it had to create and maintain the dragon.
From what he could tell, they were in a large cavern. Underfoot, the ground was rocky and uneven, with patches of dampness. Their footfalls carried well in the cavern, and by the faint illumination he could see it was a vast area indeed. There was moisture to the air and he could hear the steady dripping of water from more than one location.
“I very much doubt,” Asperathes said, “those soldiers are going to be able to find us in here.”
“I doubt they’ll follow us in,” Crenshaw said.
“Quiet,” Valok hissed. “Do you hear that?”
They all strained to listen. The noise was distant, but sounded like something dragging itself across the rocks. It was enough to make Valok question the fictitiousness of dragons.
“We should get out of here,” Crenshaw said. “Valok, you reckon there’s a way up somewhere along here?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never been down here. But it can’t go on forever.”
Crenshaw did not look happy with that answer but this was not the time to begin an argument so he set off across the cavern. Valok motioned for the glowing orb to precede them, but even the magical ball was nervous about continuing.
They had not been walking for more than a minute when they heard a scream. They froze; then the scream was accompanied by a terrible roar which shook the entire cavern. Ahead of them something large and heavy twisted its massive bulk, the shadows dancing as the ball of light picked out all the horrific details of whatever beast they had stumbled upon.
It took Valok a few moments to realise whatever the creature was, it was still at least two hundred steps ahead of them.
“Come on,” Crenshaw said, taking up his sword, “someone needs our help.”
He was running before Valok knew what he was doing. He was running full tilt into the most fearsome beast any of them had ever known, and he was running into it blind, for Valok’s orb was still hovering back.
Valok had never thought much of Crenshaw and now his opinion was changing. He was not sure whether to commend the man for his bravery or condemn him for his folly. Either way, he would not allow the man to fight the fiend alone. Together, he and Asperathes hastened after their comrade; for that was what they were. Until this was over, they were comrades, and Valok had never let a comrade down.
CHAPTER SIX
The beast was at least the size of a mountain and smelled worse than a whole river of corpses, but Sergeant Canlin did not hesitate as he threw himself through the air, his battleaxe slashing. It was seldom Canlin wielded the large weapon, but when faced with a million-tonne dragon he was willing to bring out whatever weapons he felt might be able to take the thing down.
When he and Wren had fallen through the black pit, he thought they were going to die. As they slammed into the ground and tumbled into a dark, dank cavern, he was not certain they were still alive. Unable to see anything, with only his imagination to count on, Canlin at once feared he was in Hell.
“Arno, are you hurt?” Wren asked in a soft voice and immediately he was in Heaven.
It was about then that the creature had attacked. Wren had screamed before she could stop herself and Canlin threw himself at the fiend, the captain only moments behind him.
Landing on the thing’s back, Canlin decided he had likely overestimated its size, but since he could hardly see anything he was not about to reach any solid conclusions. The beast felt scaly beneath his touch, and firm. The neck was long and thick and with one hand he grabbed hold of one of the plates, while with the other he wielded his axe. Bringing the weapon down hard upon the neck, Canlin was almost thrown clear as the creature bellowed in rage.
Beneath it he could see the vague shape of Wren charge with her sword raised, the blade stabbing into the throat of the creature, exposed by its rearing. Tearing itself away from her, the creature shook its neck so fiercely that Canlin found himself clinging on for his life, yet still refusing to release his axe.
Wren stabbed out again and again, and finally Canlin let go. He struck the floor and rolled several times before coming to a stop. He could see Wren facing off against the beast, which had lost some of its earlier rage and was backing away. Wren took slow steps towards it, keeping up her guard, and the creature turned, its massive tail almost pulverising the captain, before it finally wandered away.
Getting to his feet, Canlin checked his bones were all working before moving across to Wren. “Good job.”
“Hey, I got to captain by wrestling crocodiles.”
“You, uh?”
“Of course I didn’t. You all right?”
“I’m good. Nothing broken.”
“How’s Daisy?”
Canlin narrowed his eyes, although she would not have been able to see it in the darkness. “She’s fine, and sends her best wishes.” It was an old joke between them. Canlin rarely used his battleaxe, but when Wren had first seen him wield the thing it was because he thought she was in danger. In reality she was asleep and having a nightmare, and all his axe managed to cleave was a clump of flowers growing close to her head.
The coppery smell of freshly spilt blood reached Canlin then and he said, “Did that thing get you?”
“No, I’m just covered in dragon blood; and the irony is I don’t even believe in dragons.”
She sounded far too happy for their s
ituation, but Canlin supposed they were both still alive, so that was something to be thankful for. “Where are we?” he asked.
“The bestiary.”
“Ah.” Canlin had heard rumours of the bestiary, but had never much listened to the details. There were far too many people with far too many ideas regarding the bestiary for Canlin to have ever given it serious consideration. If Canlin survived his experience he knew he would be yet another voice adding opinions about the place, and that other sergeants would listen to his words and dismiss them as yet another foolish theory.
“The plan isn’t entirely ruined,” Wren said. “At least Moya won’t know who was sneaking up on her. She may realise someone’s set off the trap, but she won’t be able to tell who.”
Canlin wondered whether Wren would ever stop seeing the bright side of things. Speaking of seeing things, he tried to work out why there was any visibility in the cavern at all. He could see no light source, so put it down to magic. Canlin was a man who saw magic as a means to an end but accepted he would never understand it. If ever he came across anything he could not explain, he put it down to magic and got on with his life. Philosophy had never been a problem for Canlin, and that was something of which he was especially proud.
“Funny thing about all this,” Canlin said, “is that we left Mannin behind, and now she’s ahead of us.”
“If we don’t get back up before her, she’s going to be killed.”
Canlin’s humour vanished: he had not thought of that.
A low growl came to them from the darkness and Canlin saw something shambling towards them. It was seven feet tall and formed of shaggy blackness. He could see two trunk-like legs, long hairy arms and what was probably a head but was not entirely discernible in the gloom. The thing moved so slowly, waving its arms around, that Canlin almost laughed. When he saw a second and third such creature step out of the darkness he stopped finding the thing funny.
“What are those?” he asked.
“No idea, don’t want to find out. There must be an exit somewhere.”
“I’ll hold them back while you look.”
“Or I could stay in charge, maybe?”
Canlin’s face flushed with embarrassment and he was glad it was too dark for Wren to see him. “Sorry, you’re right.”
“Arno, you hold them back while I look for an exit.”
This time he did laugh. If he was going to be killed by these shaggy things it would have been worth it just for that.
Canlin rushed to meet the things, not allowing them the opportunity to come to him. His axe swung in a wild arc and he screamed with such ferocity that he could almost pity the poor things he was slicing up. The axe cleaved through the torso of the first of the creatures, slicing it open and spilling its guts clear across the floor. Without a sound, the creature collapsed, several more already shambling along in its place.
Twisting the weapon, Canlin hacked down, chopping off an arm of one beast before continuing his swing and taking off the arm of another in a savage uppercut. Neither creature made a noise, neither was slowed.
Backing away, Canlin felt the first stab of fear. As a rule he did not allow himself to feel anything during combat. Excitement, pleasure, anger were all things he tried to avoid, with varying degrees of success; but fear was the one thing he never gave any thought to. Canlin feared nothing during battle, for to fear the enemy was to be already defeated. These creatures, though, were not natural. They did not behave as living beings, any more than they died as living beings.
“Devils,” he said softly as he backed away further. “Wren, they’re the very devil!”
“That’s nice,” she called back. “I can’t see anything. I may be standing right next to a ladder, though, and I’d never know.”
“Devils.”
“You said that.”
The shambling creatures continued to amble towards him, arms raised, legs moving them at a steady pace. So silently moving, so slowly trudging, closing in upon him.
Canlin shook his head. He was losing his sanity in the dark pit and needed to stay focused, else they were both going to die.
A sound broke the silence of the cavern, snapping Canlin out of his petrification. It was the unmistakable sound of someone launching a battle-cry.
A dark form shot across the cavern, trailed by a ball of bright light hastily attempting to keep pace. Behind the figure came two more, and in the light of the orb Canlin could make out something of them. Crenshaw was in the lead, swinging his sword vengefully. Canlin smiled at his foes, even though he knew they would be unable to see him.
“You’re about to be slaughtered,” he told the shaggy things. “My backup’s here.”
His face fell somewhat when he saw Crenshaw race past the shambling monsters to attack something else. He heard a familiar bellow and realised the idiot had seen the dragon in the darkness and had attacked the thing. The dragon that had run away, defeated, was no doubt curled up somewhere licking its wounds, and Crenshaw the fool had just assailed it as though it was some kind of threat.
“Idiot,” Canlin muttered and throwing his own battle-cry through the cavern he launched himself into the midst of the hairy beasts.
His axe flew through flesh, snapped bones and sent rivers of blood flowing. Canlin did not stop moving, for he had it in mind to force his way to where Crenshaw was waging a pointless fight with the dragon. He saw Valok readying a spell to throw at the creature and shouted out to the fool. In that moment he let down his guard and a hairy arm grabbed him and claws ripped his flesh.
Canlin screamed as his body was shot through with a cold so intense it froze his axe in his hands. He tried to pull back, but his body would not obey his mind. The beasts slowly closed in upon him and he felt a second claw touch him, raking his armour and drawing blood. The pain lasted moments, for with the intense freezing there came numbness.
Eyes wide, Canlin could see nothing but a sea of hairy creatures converging upon him. He tried to shout, to spit, to glower, but even his eyes were beginning to freeze.
All he had left was his panic.
Fire suddenly raged before him as one of the hairy monsters was set ablaze. Even then it made no sound, although it flailed in vain to douse the blaze. The other creatures removed their claws from him, reluctantly, as though they were frozen to his skin, and even as they turned to face the new threat did Valok blast two more with fire, setting their black fur alight.
In the intense light Canlin could see them now for what they were. They did indeed possess small heads, but without the need for eyes or a mouth those heads were tiny and covered with hair. The hair itself was not black, but a yellowish white, and it burned like dead straw.
Feeling returned to Canlin’s body and his panic began to lessen. He had never been so happy to see anything die. Any bad things he had ever said about Valok evaporated in that moment; the man was a hero.
“Sergeant?” Valok asked, and Canlin had the impression the sorcerer had repeated his name several times.
“I’m fine,” Canlin replied shakily. “Where’s the captain?”
“She’s not with you?”
Asperathes flew past them, running faster than a snake had any right to be able to. Canlin opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, then saw Crenshaw running towards him as well. Behind Crenshaw came the beast Canlin had long ago decided was a dragon. Now illuminated by Valok’s glowing orb, Canlin could see it for what it truly was and was not all that certain the name dragon did not suit it well. It was large – Canlin did not want to estimate how large – and was covered with thick armour plating which travelled its entire body in a system of scutes. Its face was an explosion of spikes and horns, projecting from a massive frill-like bone shield which protected its monstrous visage. The thing thundered forward on four incredibly powerful legs, its beak opened in a snarl as it snapped angrily at its agitator.
“Run, you morons!” Crenshaw shouted and the three men took off after Asperathes, the little ball of light
fighting to keep up with them.
The rocky ground did not aid their speed and several times Valok stumbled, only for Canlin to have to drag him back to his feet. Wren came into sight, for she had found a wall, although it was solid rock and, while it was pitted with juts and small hollows, there was no doorway leading through.
“Follow the wall along,” Valok said. “There must be an opening somewhere.”
Behind them the creature gave an almighty roar. Canlin span to face it, readying his battleaxe. He could see its vague outline as it tossed its head, slamming its feet upon the ground. The creature did not seem to be advancing and it took Canlin a few moments to realise why.
“Those shaggy things,” he said. “It’s being attacked by them.”
The shaggy figures were too small for their touch to affect the dragon in quite the same way as they had frozen Canlin, but it was clearly enough to annoy the beast, for it was taking them in its horns and hurling them in every direction. There seemed to be an endless sea of the weird foes, but Canlin knew one side would eventually prevail. They needed to have found a way out by then.
“Valok,” he said, “what about a levitation spell?”
“And go where? I can hover us around the ceiling for a while, but eventually we’d have to come down somewhere.”
“The light,” Asperathes said. “Send the light up. Maybe it can scope us out an escape route.”
Valok nodded and commanded the light to rise. The ball of fire seemed to have no problem with placing greater distance between it and the raging behemoth, and as it rose Canlin at last came to understand the true scope of the cavern. Within moments the light had ascended so far that it was no longer visible save as an afterglow upon his corneas.