“Katie.” He stepped between her and the freakish abomination and punched – actually punched – it off the wagon. “Get me my bonsai tree.”
Katie blinked as Old Man grabbed a tentacle with his bare hands and then ripped it off, so he could beat the mutant it had belonged to over the head with it. “What?”
“My bonsai tree. Throw it to me.” Old Man tossed the tentacle aside and booted the mutant off the wagon. “Quickly.”
Katie was used to odd requests. Her master had once instructed her to fetch a notebook while he tried to put together a zombie that had exploded – all while fighting another zombie that was trying to bite his face off. She yanked the bonsai tree out of its pot with her shadows and threw it to Old Man. “Here.”
He lifted one hand. His magic surged, and the plant shimmered in response. When he caught it, it was no longer a plant. Instead, it was a sheathed sword, long and slightly curved. He drew the weapon in a single smooth motion, his form so perfect that Katie was momentarily struck speechless. She’d seen her master use a sword, and he was a great swordsman although he preferred his shovels. But Old Man was much, much better than him. And then the monsters around them simply died, as though cut to pieces by a thousand blades at once.
“Thank you.” Old Man’s eyes crinkled. “We should hurry. I have a feeling that the others might be in trouble.”
She had a lot of questions, most of them about who he was and what he’d just done, but that was when the side of the castle exploded. Fire billowed out of the gaping hole, and a massive, worm-like monstrosity emerged. And naturally, because he wouldn’t have been her master if he weren’t doing something crazy, who else was holding onto it for dear life while trying to beat it to death with a shovel? It was her master, of course.
Katie took a deep breath. None of this made sense. Since when was Old Man some kind of epic swordsman? Oh well, she could ask questions later. For now, she’d go with it. Besides, if her master were in trouble, she’d bet that Gerald was even worse off.
“I’ve got some questions, but they can wait.” Katie winced as her master almost went flying off the creature. “My master looks as though he could use some help.”
* * *
The fight began reasonably well for Timmy – at least, as well as fights against warped, inter-dimensional mutant creatures could go. As the first mutant lunged toward him, he ducked smoothly under its outstretched tentacles and broke his banjo over its head, revealing the shovel concealed inside it. The blow should have been accompanied by a pillar of stone torn out of the floor rising up to crush the mutant against the ceiling.
That was not what happened.
Instead, his shovel hit the abomination with a dull, wet thump, and that was it. Not good. He scrambled back before the mutant could grab him with its claws and cut off one of the outstretched appendages with the sharp edge of his shovel before he hit it again. Other than caving in part of its midsection, nothing happened. This was not good. More tentacles surged toward him, and he rolled to the side. He got to his feet and leapt to hit the mutant over what passed for its head. A few of its eyes popped in fairly gruesome fashion, but that was all.
He brought his shovel around for another attack, shoving more of his magic into it, but again, the floor didn’t move so much as an inch although the attack did slice off a generous portion of his opponent’s upper body. A geyser of black blood spewed out of the creature, and he grimaced and ducked out of the way. What was going on? His gaze drifted to the floor beneath them, and he caught a brief flash of magic under the warped flesh that covered the stone floor. His eyes narrowed, and he almost laughed. Lord Taylor had covered the floor in seals. Timmy would have noticed any attempt to prevent the use of magic the moment they set foot in the hall, but Lord Taylor had probably designed the seals to protect the hall itself from outside magical interference. It was subtle enough that Timmy hadn’t noticed it until then. As long as those seals were in place, he doubted he’d be able to manipulate the stone in the hall, no matter how much he swung his shovel around. How aggravating.
But he wasn’t out of options yet. He had his other shovel, the one that he’d asked Gerald to give him. It was designed to kill things like the mutants. He’d made it after discovering that some of the things that lived under his castle were a lot less friendly than Sam. It would cost him more magic to use, but it would let him disrupt the very flesh that the mutants were made of. Things like them were not supposed to exist in the mortal world, and the right magic could tear them apart.
When he hit the mutant again, he hit it with his other shovel, dodging its attack with skills that he’d honed through years of his master’s insane training. What happened next was both impressive and unpleasant. The hideous thing exploded in a shower of gore and bloody muck right next to him. Bits of tentacle and a few stray eyeballs bounced off his face and tangled in his hair.
“Damn it!” Timmy stumbled back, spitting and wiping at his face and hair frantically. “I think I got some in my eye. Yuck.” He made a gagging noise. “I think there’s some in my mouth too.” He continued to spit as he pulled bits of inhuman flesh out of his hair. “Stupid inter-dimensional, protoplasmic goo.”
“Here.” Gerald tossed him a gourd of water. The bureaucrat was doing his best to blend in with the woodwork, but there wasn’t any for him to blend in with. Instead, he was forced to bash things with his metal walking stick. He even managed to poke one of the monsters in its eye before running away. Timmy sighed. Well, it wasn’t like he’d expected anything else from Gerald.
Timmy washed his face and then leapt back into the fray to whack the mutant that was about three steps from having Gerald for brunch. It exploded, but Timmy was quick to turn away. He would definitely have to work on that. Still, he got more goo in his hair and clothes, and some even found its way into his boots, making each step squishier than the last. He snorted. Had some gone up his nose? When this was over, he was going to take a long bath with lots of soap and then burn his clothes. He really should have asked the rats to lend him some of their safety goggles. Wait…
“Gerald.”
“Do you need some more water?” The bureaucrat tripped over – neatly avoiding a claw that would have parted his head from his shoulders – and then summoned a frying pan, which he hurled at the closest mutant. It hit with a resounding clang, and the creature stumbled back.
“Not yet. Do you have goggles or a facemask? And, if it isn’t too much trouble, do you think you could start actually killing things?” Gerald tossed Timmy a facemask. The necromancer tilted his head to one side. “Where did you get this?” It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would keep the goo off his face and out of his eyes.
“It was confiscated from some bandits that were captured near a garrison I was assigned to.”
“Thanks.” Timmy made one last adjustment to the facemask and then lifted his shovel. This was much better. “Come on, we’ve got plenty of things to kill.”
Gerald took a deep breath, mustered his courage, and then put his metal walking stick away in favour of a wickedly sharp sword. Timmy felt a brief surge of hope – until Gerald dropped the weapon and almost cut his own foot off.
“Okay, forget what I said. Stay back and leave the killing to me. If you’ve got holy water, you can try that. I doubt it will kill them, but they won’t like it. The last thing I need is you cutting your own leg off.”
As Timmy launched himself back into the fray, exploding twisted monstrosities left, right, and centre, he tossed a quick glance back at Gerald. The older man had backed up against a wall and was busy lobbing bottles of holy water at anything that so much as looked at him. Timmy had no idea why he had so much holy water, but it had to be the real deal. The mutants’ flesh bubbled and burnt where it struck them, and they snarled and flinched away. They weren’t going to die, but they weren’t getting any closer to Gerald either. Naturally, that was when the wall behind Gerald sprouted a mouth, some tentacles, and lots of long, pointy teeth.
/> “Behind you, Gerald!”
But Cezanne was there. The old rat poked his head out of Gerald’s pocket and gestured with his staff. Rays of blinding light struck the tentacles, driving them back and withering them away. The mouth screamed and gnashed its teeth in helpless fury. As Gerald went back to throwing bottles of holy water, Cezanne climbed onto his shoulder and began to chant and wave his staff about. The water had an even greater effect now, eating away at the mutants’ flesh with frightening speed. One of the creatures toppled to the ground, and its body disintegrated in the span of a few seconds. Timmy’s lips twitched. The old rat had some moves.
Turning his attention back to the monstrosities in front of him – it was like Lord Taylor had an endless supply – Timmy killed another two. This wasn’t working. Mutants were popping up faster than he could kill them. Heck, they were coming out of the walls now. The last one had dropped from the ceiling. Only its shadow falling over him had given him the warning he needed to avoid being crushed under its bulk. If only he could use his magic properly, he’d be able to clear a path through these things in no time.
Luckily, he had someone who could do that for him.
The hall shook as waves of flame billowed outward and obliterated the mutants closest to Avraniel. Timmy was forced to hide behind a pillar covered in flesh, which was promptly burnt to a crisp. The flesh sloughed off to reveal the stone beneath. The seals Lord Taylor had might be able to get in the way of Timmy’s magic, but Avraniel’s magic was another story. She didn’t need to use her surroundings the way he did. She made her own fire, and she was busy using it to earn her pardon like she wanted it right that instant.
“Don’t you dare touch me with that tentacle, you slimy bastard!” Avraniel roared before, somewhat paradoxically, grabbing the tentacle in question and tearing it straight off. As the mutant howled in pain, she smacked it upside the head with its own tentacle and then drove one flame-covered fist into its body. The attack vaporised the creature without getting so much as a drop of blood on the elf.
Another creature bared its teeth and leapt at Avraniel from behind. The elf turned, smashed its teeth in, ripped off the beak growing in the middle of the mutant’s chest, and then stabbed it with its own beak. The mutant lurched back, and she set it on fire before grabbing it and hurling it away. It slammed into the wall above Gerald, and the bureaucrat had to scramble to avoid being crushed under its burning body.
“Avraniel,” Timmy shouted. “This hall has seals that are interfering with my magic. You should be able to burn them out.”
“Is that so?” Avraniel grabbed one of the mutants and head-butted it. Its skull caved in as the elf’s magic set it alight. Without skipping a beat, Avraniel tore off one of the dying creature’s legs and bludgeoned another one of its compatriots with enough force to pulp its upper body. “I can do that.” She tossed the leg aside, and the limb and the pulped mutant caught fire. “Hell, I’ve been waiting for a chance to cut loose since we got here.” She smirked, and madness glittered in her eyes. “But you might want to grab Gerald and get behind cover. The Council would be pissed if you and the other idiot ended up dead.”
Timmy ran over, grabbed Gerald, and hauled both of them behind the thickest pillar he could see. Then he had to cover his eyes as blinding light and overwhelming heat filled the hall. Fire rushed past the pillar. It was hot enough to singe his hair and clothes, even without direct contact. His ears rang as the howl of Avraniel’s power drowned out Gerald’s high-pitched scream of terror. Flesh burned around them, the scent of it filling his nose, and the stone pillar began to melt. His jaw clenched. This was insane.
And then it was over.
The warped flesh that had covered the hall was gone. In its place there was only stone so hot it glowed. Before his eyes, however, the stone cooled, all of the heat drawn back to Avraniel. The elf stood alone and unharmed as flames licked at her shoulders and swirled around her body. Her eyes were pools of molten gold that reflected the devastation she had wrought. Her lips curled, and she pointed one finger at Lord Taylor.
“You’re next, you half-demon son of a bitch.”
But the half-demon didn’t look the least bit intimidated. Instead, he looked enthralled, a mixture of awe and infatuation on his face.
“Magnificent,” Lord Taylor murmured. “Absolutely magnificent.”
Then Lord Taylor began to change as he called upon his demonic heritage. He gave a low growl, and his muscles bulged and twitched. His human form gave way to something else, something bigger. Bat-like wings stretched out behind him, and he grew taller and broader. His armour became part of his flesh, gleaming metal imbedded amidst leathery skin. Black runes sprang to life across his face and exposed flesh, curses written in the unholy language of demons. On the upside, the changes to his armour had managed to preserve his modesty. Timmy had always been of the opinion that fighting naked people was extremely awkward. But Lord Taylor’s transformation wasn’t done yet. His fingers and toes became claws, and his teeth became fangs. Blood dripped from the corners of his crimson eyes.
“Yes,” Lord Taylor rumbled. “You are the one, elf. Yours is the fire I have been waiting for. We will rule the world together. Join me… become my bride.”
Timmy almost tripped over. Seriously? Sure, he could be theatrical at times, but Lord Taylor was insane. How could the first thing out of his mouth after watching Avraniel annihilate pretty much every living thing in his hall be a marriage proposal?
The elf was not impressed either. The burning gold of her eyes shimmered as though stirred by currents of heat. The stone at her feet began to glow and then melt. “I don’t give a crap about the rest of the world. All I want is a nice island somewhere warm, with plenty of minions, a huge pile of gold, and my own dragon. You’ve got two choices, you stupid, limp-dicked bastard. You can surrender right now, or I can beat the hell out of you before handing you over to the Council, so they can execute you.”
“Foolish woman.” Timmy winced. That was not a good thing to say to Avraniel. “You fail to understand. It is you that has only two choices. Become my bride… or else.”
“How about you shut the hell up?” Avraniel thrust one hand forward and launched a torrent of fire at Lord Taylor. It hit him with the force of a tidal wave, incinerating the area around him and driving him back into the melted ruins of his throne. Yet when the smoke cleared, he remained unburnt, with little more than a few scratches on his leathery skin.
“My father was a demon lord. I was born of hell fire, elf. Your flames cannot harm me.” He unfurled his wings. Magic gathered around him, and Timmy bit back a curse. He still didn’t know what Lord Taylor’s magic did. “You will join me. You have no other choice.”
Timmy sincerely hoped that Katie killed him if he ever started talking like that, but what Lord Taylor had said did give him an idea. “Cezanne, help Avraniel.” The rat was a priest. Perhaps he could bless the elf’s fire and give it some added kick. And now that Avraniel had destroyed the seals preventing him from using his magic on their surroundings, he could do what he’d wanted to do since they arrived: grab control of a big piece of stone and start hitting his enemies with it. He slammed his shovel into the floor, and a stone spike almost drove Lord Taylor into the ceiling before the half-demon managed to jerk out of the way.
“I see.” Lord Taylor gestured, and Timmy rolled out of the way as a corrosive blast of demonic magic began to eat away at the place where he’d been standing. His expression turned into one of utter disdain, and Timmy couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just been insulted. “You must have given yourself to this man, elf. Very well. I will destroy him and claim you for myself.”
“What?” Avraniel shrieked. “Hell, no. I just live in his castle and eat his food.” She paused. “And steal lots of his stuff.”
“Yeah.” Timmy shuddered. “That’s it.” As beautiful as Avraniel was – and she was very attractive, even by the very high standards of the elves – she was also very, very homicidal
. Any person who tried to get too close to her was likely to suffer a violent and fiery death. He enjoyed living, and if anyone was going to do him in, he’d rather it be Katie. At least that way, someone he could trust would get the castle.
“You will die, necromancer,” Lord Taylor paused dramatically and flared his wings out. “And then the elf shall be mine.” He gestured sharply with both hands, and the castle began to shake. Timmy’s eyes widened as he felt an almost familiar surge of unearthly power erupt from the very bowels of the castle and the mountain beneath it.
Oh no.
No way.
No freaking way.
Cracks spread across the floor, and a deep, inhuman roar ripped up from the lightless depths below the castle.
Yes way.
The floor came apart as some vast, vaguely worm-like thing ripped its way out of the bowels of the castle. Its titanic form rippled outward and upward, the product of an incalculable amount of magic giving form to that which had no right to exist in any sane or logical world. It was a parody of a hydra, a multi-headed thing that was the summation of all the horrors that Lord Taylor had been trafficking with, an abomination whose exact shape and form defied anything but the vaguest description. Timmy was thrown back, carried along as one of the creature’s heads drove a hole right through the side of the castle. Just looking at it from this close, seeing its twisted flesh writhe and thrash as though a billion maggots lay beneath its skin, should have driven him mad. Luckily, he’d spent a lot of time getting to know Sam and his ilk. He’d seen something like this before. Gerald was not far behind him, holding on for dear life as Cezanne leapt off his shoulder and tried to reach Avraniel. Thankfully, the bureaucrat had the good sense to keep his eyes closed. The last thing Timmy needed was for him to go insane.
Timmy braced his feet and grabbed onto what was probably an eye with one hand while using the other to raise his shovel. At times like this there was only one thing he could do.
Unconventional Heroes 2 - Two Necromancers, an Army of Golems, and a Demon Lord Page 19