The Undying Legion

by Clay Griffith

  “Maybe,” he muttered. “It looks freshly dug. There’s another gully ahead of the coach too.”

  Kate glanced around. “We’re not far from the estate now. Only a few miles from Hartley Hall. We can walk if need be.”

  Malcolm pounded on one of the wooden wheels. He rose and went forward to where the four admirably trained black Friesians huffed breath into the air. He ran his hands along glistening flanks and down their legs, checking for injuries. He inspected the tack next, pulling harnesses and testing braces. “Looks sound enough. We should be able to ease over the gulley and move on.”

  “No worse for wear then,” Simon said.

  “Simon.” Kate had walked a few steps away, staring over the downs. “Have a look at this.”

  He joined her, sheltering his eyes from blowing snow, and followed her pointing finger. He shook his head. “I don’t see—”

  “There.”

  At the base of a hillock, something moved. At first he thought it was simply high grass in the wind. But no. There was motion along the ground.

  “What the hell?” Malcolm said from behind them, staring out over their shoulders.

  In the distance, the heavy grass parted and dirt shifted beneath it. A hump of soil rose and moved. A furrow nearly three feet high slid along the ground as if a large, burrowing animal was tunneling. The mound shifted direction and seemed to vanish into the side of a hill.

  “You have enormous voles in Surrey,” Simon quipped.

  “I think we should go.” Kate tugged on the men’s coats. “I’d feel safer closer to home inside the wards.”

  When they all turned, they saw a small figure of a woman walking across the dark field, moving closer, coming toward the front of the carriage. Some twenty yards away, she stopped and stood quietly in the high grass. She was short and appeared to be naked, except for a necklace with a heavy stone between her small breasts. Even more distracting, her skin was blue. There was an odd shimmer about her; something small and bright slipped over her in random movements. She looked otherwise normal, with an opulent figure. Her hair was straight black and cut short. Her eyes were bright, set off by broad dark liner in an ancient Egyptian style.

  Malcolm raised his gun. Kate’s hand went to her vials.

  “Good evening.” Simon leaned on his cane and eyed the nude woman through the snow, trying to sound casual in the face of her peculiar appearance. “A chilly night for a walk.”

  She smiled and her teeth were sharpened. “I’m glad I found the three of you together. It saves me time.”

  “Are we acquainted? I think I would recall meeting you.”

  “You may call me Nephthys.”

  “Nephthys,” Simon repeated and his stomach dropped in despair. “The Egyptian demon queen, and another of the infamous Bastille Bastards. England seems overrun with you vermin lately.”

  “We go where we please, Mr. Archer.” Nephthys grinned. “Once we were bound, but Pendragon is dead. There is no one who can hold us now. The old days when we hid in shadows and let humans rule us are coming to a close. A new age of magic draws near.”

  “What a shame then that your old cellmates, Gretta Aldfather and Dr. White, won’t be here to enjoy it,” Simon said. “We killed them a few months ago.”

  “They must have been terribly stupid,” the woman replied. “No matter. I never liked them, and now there’s more for the rest of us.”

  Kate glanced at Simon, her features creased in shock. But when she looked back toward the nude woman, her expression was resolute. “Are you here to plead the case of Rowan Barnes too?”

  “I don’t plead, Miss Anstruther.” Nephthys raised her bare arms, and her hands traced iridescent streaks of aether through the air. “I bring horror.”

  “Now, Malcolm, if you please,” Simon began, but before he finished, the Lancaster pistol roared twice.

  The glowing patch that swirled over Nephthys’s lithe body moved at the speed of thought. It appeared at her shoulder where the first ball struck it, then seemed to instantly appear at her hip, where the second shot struck. Nephthys was staggered from the force of the balls, but the only effect was to elicit an angry grimace from her. Two shots from the Lancaster could have dropped an elephant. She continued to weave her spell.

  Malcolm raised the gun again and took aim. He fired and the bright patch appeared on her forehead, where the ball struck it with a spark. Her head snapped back violently, but then lowered again. She snarled from pain but didn’t cease conjuring.

  Simon pressed Malcolm’s arm down. “She’s wearing a dragonscale necklace. Don’t waste your ammunition. We need to stop her summoning spell.”

  “I’ll stop her.” Kate lobbed a vial at Nephthys.

  The ground in front of the sorceress erupted and a huge, horrid shape rose into the snowy night. The creature swept its huge claw and batted the vial. The glass shattered, filling the air with an amber cloud. The snake-thing roared and thrashed within the mist. Nephthys backed away as amber hardened over the creature’s arms and shoulders.

  Pinned as it was, Simon and the others got a clear view of the thing. Its horrible worm-like body was covered in strange, undulating scales that had pushed it through the dirt. The torso and arms were those of a strong human male. A large head with two staring eyes was surrounded by a mane of thick, fleshy tendrils. The gaping mouth bit angrily at the amber that trapped it.

  “It’s a chnoubi. A Coptic earth demon.” Simon drew the sword from his walking stick. The blade flashed blue.

  “Simon!” Malcolm shouted. “There are more coming in. We have to go!”

  The chnoubi opened its mouth and drooled a viscous liquid over the amber trapping its arms. The crystal began to sizzle and melt away. As the creature tore itself free of the amber, Simon ran to the coach. Malcolm climbed onto the driver’s bench and started reloading his pistol. Simon had his hand on the door, but Kate followed Malcolm up.

  She took the reins. “I’ll drive. You two keep those things off us.”

  Simon slammed the door and hopped onto the side step like a footman. From this vantage point, he saw three new furrows moving in from the darkness behind Nephthys who continued to gesture with light through the driving snow. Malcolm pulled his second pistol.

  “Walk on!” Kate called. The horses started off, pulling slowly. The coach creaked forward over the last of the large furrows. They couldn’t afford a busted wheel now. She clucked at the team, urging the Friesians to strain against their collars.

  The first snake-creature shook off the remnants of the amber and started crawling for the lumbering carriage. It was well ahead of its brethren. Malcolm aimed forward and fired. The heavy ball slammed the thing back onto the ground, but it immediately started to rise. The coach gathered headway with aching slowness. Malcolm shot again, smashing the creature down once more as the carriage rolled past it. When it tried to rise again, another shot smashed it into the dirt.

  “Get up!” Kate shouted at the horses. “Get up now!”

  The creature ceased its pursuit and slithered back toward its master. Simon almost cheered until he saw the other raised mounds shifting direction in pursuit. They tore through the grass, throwing up dirty snow like a wave crashing on the shore. Kate snapped the reins and the coach rocked back and settled into a bone-rattling pace. She gripped the heavy leather straps with her bare hands, staring forward, studying the ground as best she could through the blinding snow. The trail ahead was barely visible beneath the thickening white blanket on the ground.

  Malcolm slipped a pistol back into the holster so he could hold on to the bouncing carriage for safety. He gazed forward, then looked back at the pursuing wakes with an expert eye. He tapped Simon on the shoulder and pointed. “We’ll be shifting south soon and those three have no chance to catch up. If we can keep our pace.” He indicated another furrow coming from the south. “That one could catch us.”

  “Can we go off the path?”

  “Too dangerous. A horse stumbles or we hit a st
one, and we crash. We dare not be afoot.” Malcolm quickly leaned over to help Kate see the trail, indicating the timing and angle of turn. She wheeled the galloping horses southward admirably, keeping the carriage rolling along the flat path avoiding the worst of the ruts in the road. He patted her arm with an encouraging nod and turned back to their pursuers.

  Simon could see three mounds falling back, just as Malcolm had said. But the other one was pushing forward of the coach, angling for the road far ahead. Kate saw it too. Her head shifted back and forth from the wave of flying grass and snow to the wagon path. She cracked the whip, trying to coax another ounce of effort from the team. The horses were laboring, with foam flecking their mouths and a coat of lather on the rippling flanks.

  One of the lead horses stumbled. Kate shouted and let the reins slip slightly in hopes it could recover. The animal gathered itself well but swerved over into its mate. The back pair threw their heads in confusion. The coach skated to the side and the wheels bogged into the thick snow and grass. They rocked and lost headway. Amidst loud shouts and creaking wood, Kate wrestled the laboring team back onto the trail.

  The furrow roared ahead of the carriage and darted into the road. A shower of earth erupted up into the air and a terrible snake-creature, seven feet tall, blocked the path in front of the spooked horses. Kate cracked the whip. The horses obeyed and drove straight onto the creature. It bounced off the broad chest of the lead stallion and disappeared beneath pitiless hooves.

  The coach rocked, causing Simon’s boots to slip from their purchase and his legs flew out wildly. He kept his one-handed grip on the rail and Malcolm gave up his own hold to lock onto Simon’s wrist.

  The carriage bolted violently into the air. Simon caught a glimpse of one of the wheels bouncing over a long, thick snake tail. He rose high into the air and slammed onto the roof. Malcolm kept his hold with gritted teeth, but he nearly went over the side at the same time. The coach crashed down onto all four wheels.

  Kate looked over her shoulder. “Everyone alive—Simon!”

  At her wide eyes, he looked back to see massive hands crawling over the rear of the carriage. Then a flesh-maned head peered up at them. The creature dragged itself up with claws sinking into the roof. Malcolm pointed his pistol and fired while off balance. Simon felt the discharge and heat on his back. The ball clipped the creature’s shoulder. It growled and pushed itself up on powerful arms. As the fleshy beast drew its massive tail up behind it, the coach sank back.

  Simon braced himself with one hand and started to stand. His stick sword was still in his hand and once again he triggered the runic glow. The carriage rolled heavily and he braced himself like a man on a ship’s tossing deck. The snow whipped in eddies around them. He swung the blade with a hissing arc. The beast reared away, then instantly clawed at the man. Simon dodged, but his knee buckled and he toppled backward.

  “Careful there.” Malcolm’s hand pressed into the small of his back.

  Simon could’ve sworn the Scotsman gave him a shove forward as you would a mate in a pub brawl. The blue blade struck home in the creature’s stomach, biting deep. The thing screamed. Simon drew close and began to work the blade in the thick flesh. The scaly hide parted with a sizzle of reddish ooze. He felt scaly arms close tight around him. The skin of the creature was sandy and rubbed Simon’s face raw. The stench was unbelievable. He felt as if his ribs would shatter until he uttered the spell that turned him into stone. His breath stopped and his eyes were locked on the chest of the brute trying to crush him. The creature continued to try, but there was nothing it could do to hurt him. Then Simon actually felt warmth spreading across his head and shoulders; he had never felt anything while in a stone form before. The snake thing must have been drooling its corrosive spit on him.

  The carriage jolted. Simon sensed that he and the creature were airborne. The world flipped around him. He felt steady bumps and jostling but no pain. The thing’s skin was replaced in his line of vision with the snowy ground. He expelled the last bit of breath as the simple spell and the stone skin relented. Simon gasped for air, fighting to move and get his bearings. He stretched to crack the hard slough covering him. The crumbling skin flaked away and he struggled to stand. A residue of acidic heat scorched his neck before he reached up and tore away the sizzling hard skin resting there.

  The coach had continued down the path, where it entered the outskirts of a forest. Kate brought it to a clattering halt. Malcolm was already leaping off the rear. Kate was soon visible too as she jumped from the box and started running back.

  Simon limped toward then, still fighting the aftereffects of his spell. His chest burned from the curse, threatening to drop him. He focused on Kate’s face as he lumbered through the pain.

  As he ran, he took a quick glance back and saw the snake-creature rising from the snow. It angrily pulled the sword from its stomach and flung it aside. Then it glared at the fleeing Simon. It vomited onto the ground and plunged headfirst, diving into the dirt as if it were water. Then a great mound rose and chased after Simon down the rutted trail. Malcolm’s pistols thundered but merely sent balls flying into rumbling earth.

  “Stop!” Simon shouted, raising his hand at the Scotsman and Kate, who were still twenty yards away. “Come no farther!”

  Malcolm instantly grabbed Kate’s arm as she started to run on. She struggled to break free, but he held her fast. Simon turned to face the onrushing thing in the dirt. He dropped to one knee, head lolling forward with exhaustion, hand pressed against the frozen terrain. The mound roared forward, plowing within ten yards.

  Suddenly there was a tremendous muffled boom. The ground around the head of the furrow blossomed in a dome of loose earth, blown upward from below. The torn beast was partially visible amidst the debris until pieces of the chnoubi slapped into the deep crater in a dusty cloud.

  Simon staggered to his feet, watching for any sign of movement in the ground. Footsteps rushed from behind and Malcolm stepped ahead, pistol ready. Kate took Simon’s arm and handed him a vial of elixir vitae, but her eyes were still focused on the smoking hole ahead.

  “What did you do?” Kate asked.

  “Nothing. We’re inside the wards.” Simon laughed and drank the elixir.

  She looked around with surprise. “How can you tell? At night? In the snow?”

  “That tree.” He indicated an ash tree standing amidst other ash trees.

  “It looks like a thousand other trees.”

  “No, it looks like you.” Simon took a shallow, pained breath, but smiled. “It’s my marker.”

  Both Kate and Malcolm stared at the tree. Kate cocked her hip. “It looks like me? A tree? That’s flattering.”

  “Yes. See how the curves—” Simon worked his hands in an hourglass shape. “It looks like you.”

  “Oh.” Malcolm grunted. “I see.”

  Kate glared at the men. “Let’s get to the house.”

  Simon and Malcolm watched her walk ahead of them through the wind-driven snow. The magician clapped a hand on the Scotsman’s shoulder, leaning heavily against him. Malcolm cast him a wry glance, and nodded.

  Kate walked past dark wooden walls and busy wallpapers in Hartley Hall toward the Blue Parlor, where breakfast was typically laid. She would normally be buoyed by the smell of coffee and bread and bacon, but she hadn’t slept much thanks to terrible dreams about snakes. It was a bitter cold morning and her heavy woolen clothes couldn’t keep the gooseflesh from creeping up her arms and legs.

  As she entered the Blue Parlor, Kate looked past the elegant coffee urn on the table to see Simon and Malcolm sitting across from one another near the window. They were huddled close, their faces intense, engaged in some desperate plotting, which had her nervous. She noticed that both men were unshaved and in the same rumpled clothes they had arrived in the night before. There were half-filled glasses of whiskey near their hands. Both men looked drained and pensive; Simon even more so.

  “Good morning,” Kate announced loudly.
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  They turned in surprise and Simon glanced to the window, where the morning sun streamed in, brightened by the thin coat of snow outside. “So it is. Good morning, Kate. Surely you could use a bit more sleep.” His voice was gravel and his movements lacked their usual spark.

  “Have you two been up all night drinking whiskey?”

  Simon seemingly noticed breakfast for the first time. “The whiskey was a minor part of the evening, unfortunately.” He took a cup of coffee that Kate brought to him. “Thank you, but I must finish the night before starting the day.” He drained the whiskey glass and only then sipped the coffee.

  Kate rolled her eyes in exasperation and signaled the newly arrived maid to prepare plates and bring them to the two men. Simon thanked the girl and held his breakfast without interest. Malcolm set the plate on his lap and started to eat like a starving man.

  Simon said wearily, “Kate, there has been a slight change. I need to journey to my home at Warden Abbey in Bedfordshire. Would you care to accompany me?”

  Kate looked confused by yet another shift in the agenda. “When are you planning to leave?”

  Simon checked his watch. “Now.”

  “Are you mad?” Kate slammed her coffee cup onto the saucer. “Look at yourself! Warden Abbey is at the very least a hard day away, perhaps two. Not to mention that Nephthys may be watching the roads.”

  Simon reached into his unbuttoned waistcoat and removed a folded slip of paper. He handed it to Kate. “This arrived for me. Apparently a copy came here, and another to London. They were eager to find me.”

  The severe look on Simon’s face cast a cold sheen over Kate. She opened the paper and saw a brief note: Sir. There has been some disturbance at Warden Abbey. I grieve to inform you that it appears as if your mother’s grave has been vandalized in some fashion. Please advise as to a proper course of action. Winston.

  She looked up at him. “Simon, I’m … I don’t understand. What could this mean?”

  “I don’t know. But Barnes is a necromancer.” Simon paused, unable to continue for a moment. “I must go up.”