The Fury Yet To Come

by Steven McKinnon

  The assassin halted beneath the bright light of a lamp. It swung from side to side, Damien’s form alternating between light and dark.

  ‘Someone’s nearby,’ observed Gallows.

  ‘Sh… Two heartbeats, in the room ahead. Males. Pained, struggling…’

  ‘Helmsley and Rocco. They’re with me.’ Gallows tried to move but Damien stopped him.

  ‘Wait,’ said Damien.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘There’s… One heartbeat now.’

  Freezing blood churned in Gallows’ veins. ‘Move.’ Gallows pushed Damien aside and charged through the corridor with as much energy as he could summon.

  ‘Rocco! Helmsley!’ The cell door was ajar. Gallows gripped the hilt of the shortsword tighter and shoved the door open. ‘You guys in here?’

  Helmsley sat on the floor, shaking and muttering gibberish.

  The knife in his hand wavered.

  Gallows took tentative steps towards him, eyeing the dark corners. ‘Gideon—are you okay? What happened? Where’s Rocco?’

  ‘She…’

  Gallows knelt down in front of Helmsley; he stared straight past Gallows, head tremoring.

  ‘Look at me,’ said Gallows. ‘Look at me.’ He eased Helmsley’s hand to the side. ‘Drop the knife, buddy.’

  ‘Wh… What?’

  ‘The knife.’

  Helmsley gazed at the weapon in his hand—his brow drew up into a point, like he didn’t even know it was there.

  It fell to the floor.

  ‘This is important, Gideon. What happened?’ The castle walls tremored. He didn’t have much time. ‘Where’s Rocco?’

  ‘She told me to stab him once for every time he mocked me… I wanted to stop, I tried to stop…’

  Gallows’ head bowed like a lilting thistle.

  ‘He’s…’ Helmsley gazed into the corner.

  Whether it was because his eyes hadn’t adjusted or because he couldn’t handle the truth, only now did Gallows see the wiry, naked body by the far wall.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Helmsley cried. ‘Truly, I’m sorry.’

  ‘We need to go,’ came Damien’s voice.

  Gallows got up to his feet. Rocco’s wide, faded purple eyes stared up at nothing—like he was surprised more than pained.

  Killed by one of your own. Helmsley will live with this for the rest of his life.

  ‘Tyson, we don’t have time.’

  Before leaving, Gallows pulled the dog tags from Rocco’s corpse.

  * * *

  Gallows, Damien and Helmsley charged through the winding passage.

  ‘They’re coming!’ Helmsley panted.

  ‘Don’t panic,’ urged Damien. Despite the approaching din of footsteps, Gallows actually felt comforted.

  The kuramanusa were first to appear, waving blades and tools. Fear and bloodlust swam in their eyes as they scrambled towards Gallows and the others.

  ‘Wait…’ Damien held his arm out. ‘Wait.’

  With a blinding flash and a roar as loud as a warship’s engines, the ceiling erupted. The Idari soldiers and kuramanusa didn’t have time to scream before they exploded in a mash of blood and gore.

  Damien darted forward. ‘This way!’

  Gallows pointed to the mound of stone and blood. ‘How the hell do you know we won’t end up like them?’

  ‘Because I didn’t place any more charges beyond this point.’

  Even assisting Helmsley, Damien moved faster than Gallows. ‘This tower is our only escape route—Dalthean forces are advancing from the west—their bombardment will flatten this structure.’

  Words spilled from Helmsley’s laboured voice. ‘Rocco… Rocco died… I murdered him…’

  ‘The Perceptor murdered him,’ Gallows corrected.

  ‘Through the door!’ Damien said. ‘It leads to the east bailey—the Royal Sky Fleet are concentrating their bombardment on the ramparts to avoid anti-aircraft cannons. Infantry will disable them—when that happens, the RSF will throw everything they have here. We’ll be cutting it fine.’

  Gallows pulled the door open, revealing a dark, vertical passage. From the ground below, an old, wooden scaffold had been erected, used to house a pulley system with an elevator.

  ‘They must have used this for quick transportation of heavy goods,’ Gallows explained. More cracks split across the stone, and the ground rumbled. Gallows shielded his eyes from tumbling dust. ‘Reckon the RSF need to tighten their aim!’

  With the promise of returning home, Gallows grew energised. He sheathed his sword and pelted down the rickety wooden stairs, Damien and Helmsley at his back.

  ‘Careful,’ warned Damien. ‘This is a makeshift structure—it won’t withstand the assault forever, watch your st—’

  The stairs collapsed beneath Gallows’ weight. ‘Whoa!’ He plunged, palms shooting out and smacking into the steps that hadn’t fallen away. They creaked and warped.

  ‘Gallows!’ yelled Helmsley.

  With pained effort, Gallows pushed his palms into the wood and hooked his legs over. Fire shot through his arms.

  ‘I’m fine. C’mon, hurry!’

  Damien and Helmsley stepped over the gap. Gallows took point, ignoring the stuttering beat of his heart. He swore he saw the skeletal structure convulse, but chose to believe it was his imagination.

  ‘We can’t be too far—’ Helmsley started.

  With a sickening screech, the staircase buckled.

  Gallows’ stomach hardened like petrified wood.

  ‘Run!’ snapped Damien. He pushed Helmsley past, and together, the three of them ran, stumbled and pelted down the collapsing scaffold.

  Helmsley squealed as he went over his ankle, and sharp pain stabbed Gallows’ organs with each breath. Something hit the wall outside, sending brick and wooden beams exploding at their heels. The exposed fixtures of the central elevator peeled and toppled, and more than once Gallows felt the whole structure lurch to the side.

  ‘Don’t stop!’ Damien snarled.

  They used their momentum to carry them down to the next turn, and the next, descending without stopping for breath.

  Above them, another timber beam snapped and ploughed through the staircase—leaving a massive gap between Gallows and the section in the next corner.

  ‘Shit,’ breathed Gallows, ‘it’s too wide to jum—’

  Damien launched himself, spun in the air, and landed on the platform like he’d been rehearsing it his whole life.

  ‘Um, who is this gentleman?’ asked Helmsley.

  Gallows shook his head. ‘No clue.’

  ‘Do you have a plan?’ Helmsley called down to Damien.

  Damien glanced at the elevator ropes running from the ceiling.

  And then he leapt, sliding down the rope and disappearing into the darkness below.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Gallows yelled. Around him, the structure convulsed and tremored. He peered over the edge—there was lighting below, but he couldn’t see the floor.

  Shit. Escape Nidra only to get killed by a goddamn staircase.

  With a whipping hiss, the ropes slithered into life. An elevator ascended from the depths—with Damien standing atop. ‘Get on!’ the assassin yelled.

  Gallows didn’t hesitate—he clambered onto the banister and jumped. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but it felt like an hour had passed before he landed. The elevator rocked to the side.

  ‘Whoa… I’m not sure this is safer.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ said Damien. ‘Jump!’ he called to Helmsley.

  With white knuckles embedded into a shaking fist, Helmsley clutched the rail. Dust and rubble rushed around him. ‘I, I can’t!’

  ‘Jump!’ urged Gallows.

  Damien disappeared through the hatch on the elevator’s roof. ‘We have to go—now.’

  Gallows didn’t know how Damien sounded so calm.

  ‘C’mon, Gideon!’ called Gallows. He reached out to Helmsley—there couldn’t have been more than ten feet between them, an
d the elevator was lower. ‘Use the space you got and jump!’

  ‘What if… What if I overshoot!’

  ‘Oversh… Helmsley, you gotta be a goddamn athlete to overshoot this! Just let yourself drop, you’ll be fine!’

  ‘Tyson!’ Damien’s voice shot up like a shark fin stabbing the surface of water.

  ‘Aaah…’ Helmsley whined. Stone stripped from the wall behind him.

  ‘Last chance!’ Gallows’ hoarse voice struggled under the growing din. ‘I didn’t survive that witch to die here! Now or never!’

  ‘I…’

  ‘You want justice for Rocco? Then move your ass!’

  Helmsley’s eyes narrowed. He unhooked his fingers from the rail, muttered something to Aerulus—and jumped.

  ‘Ooof!’ Helmsley landed with a thud.

  Before Gallows assisted Helmsley through the hatch, Damien pulled the lever.

  The elevator lurched with a groan. The metal fixtures bore more rust than Gallows was comfortable with, but it descended smoothly.

  Helmsley cowered in a corner, staring at the floor. Damien stood still, one foot planted in front of the other, like he was ready to pounce. Gallows contented himself with leaning against the wall.

  ‘What’s your story?’ he asked Damien. ‘You came to kill me, right?’

  ‘What?’ If it was possible, Helmsley retreated further into the corner.

  Damien cleared his throat before answering. ‘Your council feared you would relinquish intelligence.’

  ‘That’s crazy, I don’t know anything more than any other common grunt. Why single me out?’

  ‘I was given a job to do,’ Damien responded. ‘I didn’t deign to investigate further.’

  Typical mercenary. Gallows mopped the grime from his eyes, thinking better of asking Damien how much his life was worth. The elevator rocked as it descended.

  ‘Where is this taking us?’ asked Helmsley.

  ‘Dalthean forces are converging on the castle courtyard,’ Damien explained. ‘We can escape via the tunnels through to the valley at the rear of the castle—from there, we’ll circle around—hopefully avoiding bomb and bullet.’

  Gallows shook his head. ‘The place will be crawling with Idari,’ he said.

  ‘As are the rest of the Sanctecano Isles.’

  ‘Point taken.’

  ‘The islands,’ muttered Helmsley. ‘The townsfolk… And Nidra. She, she can’t be allowed to live. The things she made me do…’

  Gallows agreed—Nidra deserved to die. But if he had to choose between revenge and getting home to Sera—well, that wasn’t a choice at all.

  The elevator halted. Damien yanked the wire gate open. ‘Coal mines. The exit isn’t far. Follow me.’

  Gallows helped Helmsley to his feet.

  ‘I… I can walk, thank you,’ said Helmsley. ‘Do you think… Nidra is dead?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Oh. Do you… trust this man?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘I see.’

  They followed Damien through the twisting pathways of the castle’s subterranean levels. Casks had been left empty of wine, food picked clean. Strange markings were carved into the stone, and when Gallows passed them, it felt like eyes were watching him.

  ‘What is this place?’ Helmsley asked. ‘There was no castle on the maps.’

  ‘Been here for a couple hundred years,’ said Gallows, tracing a finger across the wall. ‘Unless Damien wants to correct me.’

  ‘No, seems accurate,’ said the assassin.

  The farther they travelled, the darker it got. After ten minutes, they came to a chamber lined with pillars—they stood faint in the dark, like bones beneath mud. Kinda looks like the Temple of Irros in Dustwynd. And Gallows thought he’d never miss the filthy streets and slum towers of home.

  Damien cracked an ignium flare. It raged into life, painting the walls the colour of a crimson funeral shroud. It illuminated rows of stone coffins—dozens of them.

  ‘A crypt,’ said Gallows.

  ‘Blessed Nyr,’ muttered Helmsley.

  The stone coffins had no markings to denote identity. Anonymous, identical statues glowered down on Gallows, standing shoulder to shoulder against the walls.

  ‘Nameless monks,’ Gallows observed. ‘Said to be one for every God in the Pantheon.’

  ‘The Indecim? But there are more than eleven statues here—why, “Indecim” means eleven!’

  ‘Some people believe there were at least a thousand gods.’

  Helmsley’s sharp laugh scythed through the crypt. ‘That’s blasphemy.’

  ‘Reckon there’s always room for some blaspheming.’

  As Damien led them through the tomb and past the stone caskets, Helmsley gazed up in wonder at the statues. ‘I wonder who they were.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Gallows. ‘If you’re important enough for your remains to be kept in a crypt instead of out in the mud, then you’re important enough to have a name and title. But why here, in the Sanctecano Islands?’

  ‘Keep quiet,’ whispered Damien. ‘Someone was here recently.’

  Gallows’ hand found the hilt of his sword. The air weighed heavy down here, as though the dead were dragging it down. What was it like, to be one of these nameless saints? What did it mean to have your bones lying here with no-one to remember you? The questions sent shivers down Gallows’ spine.

  His feet crunched upon the stone floor, debris and bones giving way. He could still hear the muffled sounds of the battle raging above.

  Damien stopped. Gallows knew better than to ask why.

  But Helmsley didn’t. ‘What’s wr—’

  The arrow whooshed through the darkness towards Helmsley; Damien caught it an inch from the pacifist’s eye. Liquid trickled from the leg of Helmsley’s tattered trousers.

  ‘Get down!’ Gallows shouted.

  More arrows cut through the air, their steel tips catching the light from Damien’s red flare.

  Damien dropped low and doused the light. He hauled Helmsley down and the three of them took cover behind a sarcophagus.

  Gallows risked a glance over the tomb—the sharp twang of crossbow strings greeted him. He snapped back into cover and felt the brush of an arrow rush past him. ‘Hope you got a plan,’ Gallows said to Damien.

  ‘Quiet,’ Damien snapped. ‘Four of them—guns, but if they’re using crossbows, then they’re conserving ammunition…And they’re panicked.’

  ‘How the hell do you know that?’

  And then, as silent as a phantom, Damien leapt over the tomb and disappeared.

  ‘Slippery bastard,’ muttered Gallows.

  ‘This is a trick. Has to be.’ The words grated from Helmsley’s mouth like the screech of a saw. ‘Nidra… She’s in our heads! What if she’s a part of us now? What if she has her talons inside us forever?’

  ‘Keep it together, man. We’ll get through this.’ A bullet ricocheted from a wall inside the tomb. ‘We’ll get through this.’

  ‘But what if… What if some part of her remains inside us, corrupting our souls like a cancer?’

  Gallows’ stomach squirmed. ‘C’mon, man, you’re just rattled. We’ll be fine.’ But couldn’t he still smell her scent, taste her breath, feel her nails on his skin?

  ‘Rocco died by my hand. That will never leave me, Gallows. For the rest of my days, I’ll see him look up at me, begging to live. Funny, how a man screams like an infant if you hurt him enough.’

  When Gallows breathed, it was like ingesting acid. ‘Helmsley, I know how you feel—but it ain’t your fault… ain’t our fault.’ Gallows could feel the moisture of Nidra’s tongue snaking over his neck, hear the obscene things he’d said about Sera. His chest tightened so hard he thought his ribs would crack. ‘It was her, and her alone.’

  Helmsley pressed his palms to his temples. He rocked back and forth where he sat. ‘My father,’ he began, ‘beat me every day. I swore I’d never raise a hand to anyone. But Nidra…’ Helmsley’s voice trailed away to nothing.
‘She made my promise worthless.’

  ‘She’ll be brought to justice, Helmsley—but not if we die down here. I don’t know about you, but I got too much to live for to end up dead in a hall full of forgotten hermits.’

  Another gunshot rang out—then a scream.

  An Idari soldier wailed in the air. His back broke as he collided with the stone casket Gallows was using for cover.

  ‘Incoming!’ yelled Damien.

  Like locusts, Idari troops spilled from the passage ahead. Gallows caught only glimpses—blades flashing, ignium lamps stuttering. Damien flowed between the enemies like smoke, twisting, turning and reappearing behind. His throwing knives came out of nowhere and sent enemies to their deaths.

  But some got through.

  Gallows got to his feet—and by instinct alone, he unsheathed his sword and swept it up, just in time to deflect an incoming strike from a kuramanusa.

  Disarmed, the slave-soldier launched himself at Gallows, hands stretching out around his neck.

  Gallows hammered the pommel of his sword into the kuramanusa’s skull. The slave-soldier’s eyes widened with agony, but still he pressed harder. Gods knew what the Idari did to him.

  But Gallows had no more sympathy left. He thrust his knee into the kuramanusa’s groin, kicked him away and slashed his chest open.

  Gallows searched the darkness for Damien—he followed the Idari’s screams. ‘Gideon, on me! Helmsley! Helmsley! On your f—’

  From somewhere on the ground, another flare ignited, throwing harsh crimson light around the room.

  Howling, an elite kiro brandished a slender sabre, charging at Gallows with inhuman speed and strength. No preamble, no sizing up his opponent—the kiro came hard and fast. His gold and crimson armoured plates convulsed like the muscles of a great, mechanical beast as his blade danced.

  Gallows dodged right and leapt back, but the kiro was closing the gap. He did what he could to parry the enemy’s blows, but Gallows was outmatched and exhausted—fighting head on was not an option.

  The razor edge of his blade scored Gallows’ bare chest. ‘Helmsley!’ he yelled.

  Blood oozed and the kiro came in again, howling voice echoing in the tomb. Steel clashed with steel, but the outcome was already sealed—against the kiro’s armour, Gallows may as well have been wielding a feather.