by J. Stone
With one naga out of the way, she only had its twin sister left to deal with. Granted, as far as the innocent elders were concerned, she’d accomplished the task. She could carve off a piece of this naga and bring it back to them, but she couldn’t do that. Corrigan would be disappointed in such an action. The other naga was still out there. It would continue to stalk the citizens of Alexandria in search of food. Besides, someone had clearly warned the twin serpents of her and sought to have her killed just like they had with the other vespari. Maybe the naga could even grant her information about who was responsible.
Resolving herself to this path, Wynonna decided to take her trophy, but she wouldn’t stop until she’d collected both nagas. The vespari jammed her knife into the naga’s mouth and pried out both of her green tipped fangs, stuffing them both into her pocket for safekeeping.
With this task done, Wynonna fought the remaining toxin in her body and got to her feet. Woozy, she immediately toppled to the side, catching herself on the wall beside her and scraping her palm against the rough rocks. Feeling the sting with acute sensitivity, the vespari remembered the wound to the back of her hand she’d suffered in the sewer water. Flipping her hand over to inspect it, she saw that her regeneration had nearly healed it. She also dragged her fingers over her neck where the naga bit into her flesh. There was no evidence that such an injury had ever occurred other than a bit of the toxin atop her skin.
Wynonna smiled to herself in that darkness. She could get used to such a regenerative effect stirring within her. She wondered what it would be like to have a fresh vampiric kill though. She could only imagine what kind of wounds she could recover from, though she expected a vampire would be difficult to kill since they had an even stronger form of the regeneration.
Shifting her mind out of that curious state, the vespari once again tried to stand. This time, she braced herself against the wall and managed to stay on her feet. Her head was still woozy, and her guts swirled inside her, but she would get by. Sliding the knife back in its slot at her belt, Wynonna decided to take a moment, catch her breath, and determine her options.
Despite being knocked unconscious from the naga’s toxin and haunted by Petronila, she hadn’t been out long. She was still dripping wet, and that meant her guns were soaked as well. Undoing the ammo pouch’s buckle, she flipped up the little satchel’s flap to check the contents. Water had flooded it just as much as the spitfire and revolver. Unless she was ridiculously lucky - and she knew she wasn’t - her guns would be inoperable for the time being. She would have to rely on her knife and anything else she found along the way.
Resting there and checking her equipment, Wynonna slowly started to feel a bit better, and when she’d gone through her bullets and shells, she was ready to move. Though the naga had dragged her a long way through the sewers, the vespari’s nose with its improved senses managed to locate that same smell she’d followed her first time to the naga lair. Not knowing where the sister was, she thought it best to start there, where she’d last seen her.
From that spot where she’d emerged from the water, Wynonna followed the blood scent. The smell of the naga’s blood behind her muddied the trail somewhat, but she still managed to find her way back to the lair soon enough.
Arriving just outside the nagas’ lair, she found Corrigan’s hat lying right where the serpent had pulled her into the sewage stream. She leaned down, picked it up and plopped it over her wet hair.
Though she’d found her way back to the lair, the trick would be finding the other naga from there. The vespari walked up to the water where the serpent pulled her into the stream of sewage. That was the last she’d seen of the burned naga, but looking around, Wynonna didn’t see any sign of where it could have gone from that point.
The vespari saw no water trail leading back to their lair, and it hadn’t gone the direction she’d come from. That left her with two other tunnels that the naga could’ve taken. Wynonna took a little bridge across one of the streams to arrive at the point where these two paths deviated from one another. She stood there, looking for a sign in either direction, but neither offered her any obvious clues. They looked almost identical as well.
One of the two paths looked slightly older than the other though. More moss than the other areas covered the stones used in that section, and a few sections of the rocks had crumbled with time. That didn’t tell her anything about the naga though. Sight, it seemed wasn’t enough to find the naga’s trail.
That just left her with her sense of smell, improved through the transfer of Corrigan’s runic tattoos. Following the scent, Wynonna remembered being with him back in the desert when they tracked what turned out to be a dracmoloch. Navigating those mining tunnels, her master had managed to find the lizard’s severed tail by scent alone. She knew that thanks to his runes, she could perform this feat too.
Closing her eyes, she sniffed at the air, searching for something she could follow. She thought back on how the naga she’d killed had smelled. Wynonna took in large whiffs, mostly clogging her nose with the odor of the sewage in those tunnels, but she did find the faint hint of something familiar.
Wynonna keyed in on a scent that she believed was that of the naga. She opened her eyes and turned her head toward its source, which was the older of the two tunnels. Deciding to trust her senses, the vespari proceeded forward, following the stream.
Walking through that long twisting tunnel, the rocks and the architecture slowly began to shift. The age grew more obvious. The stones used in its construction changed to a pale brown color, and the stream ended, slipping through grates, which the naga couldn’t have possibly squeezed through. This was further evidenced by a section of broken wall through which the still wet, slimy, and even a little bloody trail lead away from the edge of the water. Though the stream ended, the tunnel, albeit an older one, continued.
If it hadn’t been clear before, Wynonna now knew that the section of the underground she’d found herself in was beyond ancient. It was also full of strange power. Placed in sconces along the walls set torches burning with green fire. The section of tunnel was unoccupied though. Dust had settled on the ground everywhere except for the naga’s trail and where Wynonna stepped. Whatever this was, she’d found herself somewhere potentially dangerous, and she had the distinct impression she was disturbing things that would be better left alone.
Regardless, the vespari continued forward, in search of the naga. She couldn’t give up until the serpent was dead. Clearing away spider webs or creeping under them as she ventured forward, Wynonna’s trepidation grew more and more. All the same, she continued through those twisting, ancient tunnels.
Following the trail the injured naga had left, Wynonna soon stumbled onto something. She stopped moving and stared into the distance, seeing the creature lying motionless some feet ahead and illuminated by the strange green fires along the wall. Gripping her knife, she proceeded forward, stepping softly. Still nothing from the naga. Perhaps it had fallen unconscious from the wounds she’d suffered. Regardless, Wynonna meant to capitalize.
Once she was close enough, the vespari leapt forward, landing on top of the naga and bringing her knife down along with her. The landing was much harder than she’d expected, however, as she discovered this was nothing but the flimsy remains of the naga’s shed skin. Her knees collided with the sandy rough stones and her knife slashed through the empty scales, scraping the ground below.
“Damn it,” Wynonna muttered through gritted teeth.
The naga had already shed her skin and was in the process of rejuvenating herself. The creature was weak for the moment, but that wouldn’t last long from what she understood. Her scales wouldn’t harden immediately, so she had a brief opportunity to finish it. Now, she just had to find the serpent in time.
Looking up from the shed skin, Wynonna could see the naga’s slithering trail through the dusty tunnel. Standing up and after rubbing some feeling back into her skidded knees, the vespari continued forward. She traveled th
rough those musty old shafts for several more minutes, passing various chambers along the way but sticking to the path the naga had taken. Eventually, Wynonna found herself standing in front of a large, circular slab of tan stone.
Someone had created and used the stone for a door to a chamber, and the naga’s trail led right up to it and beyond it. The serpent had even left the door open a crack, allowing her entrance into whatever was inside. Walking toward the circular entrance, Wynonna spotted lettering in the ancient stonework. Rubbing her hand over the engraving, she cleared away the dust and sand, so she could read what someone had written so long ago.
‘Those who disturb Queen Keqet’s slumber shall suffer a thorn in their soul.’
“What does that mean?” she muttered to herself.
Shrugging at the message, Wynonna ignored it, stepped around the stone door, and squeezed through the crack of an entrance in search of her naga.
***
The interior of this place Wynonna had stumbled on was little different than the halls leading up to it. Similar green-burning torches sat in sconces along the walls, the same porous, tan stones comprised it, and dust and sand lined the various surfaces.
There were differences, however. The walls had images depicted on them in starkly contrasting colors, principally consisting of bright blues and reds. These images stretched far across the walls, marking themselves as murals rather than small, individual paintings. Wynonna saw people in various states, but from what she gathered, it was the depiction of an ancient civilization.
They worked fields, built structures, and worshiped some abstract deity. They didn’t direct their reverence toward a specific individual but rather a general concept. The images varied enough that she couldn’t quite discern what it was exactly their religion had them worshiping though. A scholar, she was not. All the vespari could determine was there was a heavy theme of life and death throughout all the images.
Walking along with the mural, Wynonna continued to study the paintings. She did not lower her guard, however, keeping an eye out for the naga that she sought. Regardless, the images had piqued her curiosity enough that she needed to understand more.
Eventually, Wynonna arrived at one set of the mural that depicted a golden woman. This golden woman ruled over the people. Was she the Queen Keqet the message outside the door had referenced? Wynonna couldn’t say, but she crept forward, watching this golden woman’s life unfold before her on the wall.
Wynonna saw Queen Keqet born. She saw her ascend to the throne at a young age. The people loved Keqet, and she ushered in an age of prosperity. The crops were numerous. Technology advanced under her reign. The region was at peace. As with all things, however, Keqet’s rule came to an end.
A traitor, jealous of the queen’s power and respect, chose to poison Keqet. Someone had scratched out this traitor’s face from the mural. Each occurrence of this individual had a large chunk missing where their head would have been, as if dug out by a sharp object. A claw, perhaps? She ignored them and continued to unravel this visual tale of the golden queen.
Laying on her deathbed, one of Keqet’s advisors visited her, granting her an offer of life everlasting. The cost of such an offer was not clear from the painting, but the queen refused the advisor’s offer. Her people, however, pleaded for her to take the advisor’s offer. Her bodyguard and apparent lover did the same. His tale interested Wynonna as well, as the mural seemed to depict him as a man with the head of a wolf. An ancient lycanthrope, perhaps?
Regardless, the golden queen eventually succumbed to the wishes of her people and allowed her advisor to perform the ritual on her. The next image depicted both Keqet and her bodyguard lover undergoing the advisors ritual. He wrapped them both in white bandages with little symbols written across their surface that looked similar to the vespari tattoos on Wynonna’s chest. She wondered if there was a connection, but the images did not convey enough information to say one way or the other.
The next painting in the mural, however, did not go the way the vespari would have expected. Despite the ritual for Queen Keqet and her bodyguard, they both died. Her people then placed the golden queen and her bodyguard into a tomb, united forever in death. Lastly, they placed the advisor who had failed to resurrect the golden queen in the tomb as well, but they kept him alive when they buried him.
Moving to the next panel and looking for the scene describing what happened afterward, she discovered that the mural simply stopped. There was no more to the story she had followed.
Wondering what any of it meant, the vespari abandoned that long hallway full of paintings, turning down a new path where the naga’s trail led. Looking up from the scattered dust on the ground where the serpent had slithered away, Wynonna saw movement. She stopped on the spot, seeing a long, white tail disappear down another hall. Though Wynonna had found the creature, in that moment, she realized she had no chance of defeating it without her weapons.
Both the spitfire and her revolver were currently useless thanks to the sewer water the other naga pulled her into. All she had on her was the runed knife. It would work to finish the creature off, but Wynonna would have little luck subduing the monster with it alone. No, she needed a plan. Her usual approach of barreling headfirst into danger wasn’t going to work this time. Luckily, she had an idea.
Wynonna retrieved her box of matches from her pocket to check their state. Unsurprisingly, the individual matches were completely soaked. Some of them would still prove useful in time, she expected, but not in this moment. Stuffing the box of matches back in her pocket, she realized that the underground habitat she found herself in could very well supply the source of fire she needed.
Approaching one of the green torches in the wall sconces, the vespari raised her hand near the flames. She half expected the strange, possibly magic fire to not burn her due to its queer nature, but the warmth radiated off it in generous supply long before her fingers reached the flame. It would do just fine.
That just left one other component. Though the vespari knew the spitfire wasn’t going to shoot for some time, that didn’t mean the incendiary shells had to go to waste too.
Looking around, Wynonna searched for a place she could use to her advantage. She needed somewhere tightly contained, poorly lit, and with at least somewhere to take cover. Ignoring the direction the naga had traveled, Wynonna took a side path. After a minute or so of searching the hallways there, the vespari found a dead end that nearly suited her purposes.
It being a dead end made it contained enough, but the torches continued here the same as everywhere else. She supposed she could fix that easily enough. Besides, she would need one of them since her matches proved useless. But first, there was the matter of finding a place to take cover.
Wynonna ventured to the end of the tunnel where the torchlight didn’t extend. It was here that she found the wall had crumbled from years of neglect, leading to a little crawlspace between this area and another. That would suit her purposes just fine, she decided.
Picking up one of the lighter stone slabs from the rubble, the vespari dropped it down in the middle of the hall. There, she kneeled and rummaged through her ammo pouch for all the incendiary shells. One by one, Wynonna placed them on the ground just behind the stone slab and out of sight from the entrance to that dead end hall. Autumn had supplied her with enough that even after the trap was laid, she had a few left over in her ammo pouch. She took the time to find a shell that felt particularly dry, and she loaded it into the spitfire. Wynonna also replaced the wet bullets in her revolver with dryer ones, hoping they might prove more reliable if she needed to use them.
Standing from her pile of concealed incendiary shells, Wynonna slipped her revolver back into its holster, let the spitfire hang off her by the shoulder strap, and walked over to the wall. She pulled one torch from its sconce, walked to the other side, picked it up as well, and then left the hall. Proceeding back through that ancient maze to where she’d last seen the naga, the vespari tossed one of t
he torches aside, retrieved her knife once more, and then continued her search for the serpent.
Wynonna moved down the halls with a mix of hesitation and eagerness. She wanted to find the creature quickly to ensure its scaled armor wasn’t too strong, but at the same time, the naga was still a very dangerous monster. It was perhaps even more dangerous considering the vespari had just killed what she expected was its twin sister.
As she turned to take a new hall where the slithering naga had brushed aside age’s old dust, Wynonna discovered someone had removed all the torches from their wall sconces. Where they’d gone, she didn’t know, but it was clear they’d once been there. Now, proceeding down that hall, the only light she had was from the green burning torch in her hand.
Groaning at the situation, she saw no better alternative, but Wynonna had to assume that the naga knew she had followed her into the ancient chamber. Whatever element of surprise she had was gone and likely reversed. She would have to step cautiously to avoid another bite or capture by those four arms or her long constricting body.
Then, she had an idea. Wynonna stopped in the middle of that dark hall, peering out in every direction, as she turned about. Unsure where the naga could be hiding, she prepared for every possibility.
“Hey!” she shouted, her voice echoing through those long since abandoned tunnels. “I killed your sister!” She continued twisting slowly about, ensuring each dark corner of that room could hear her. “I jammed my knife in her gut! I carved her flesh! Mutilated her body! I made her suffer before she died!”