Moonlight War- Act II (The Realmers Book 3)

by William Collins

  “Just follow me,” Bane ordered, joining the line of civilians moving down the road.

  Evan and Emillia fell into step behind Sintian.

  The city folk were similar to the crowds of Veneseron City, although with less variety in the races. Gnomes were the most prevalent, but there was a hefty amount of dwarves too, and elves of all kinds. Only one in a dozen was a troll or Mandon.

  There were fewer shops than in Veneseron, although Evan did spot a pet store, which sold blue rabbits the size of grey-hounds. Most of the shops sold modern, or downright futuristic, appliances. The most frequent shops were plant stores, however.

  There were several guild halls too, with guilds for Hunters to Architects and even a couple of mercenary barracks that were recruiting for upcoming battles.

  Bane and Sintian set a rapid pace as they walked, neither one caring if they barged into civilians or not, leaving Evan and Emillia to mutter apologies for them. As they came to the end of the road, the city opened up into a gargantuan square, packed to the brim with row upon row of market stalls.

  “Are we going the right way?” Evan asked.

  “Naturally,” Bane replied. “I know what I’m doing, unlike some.”

  “On most missions, Venators aren’t supposed to draw attention to themselves,” said Evan. “So you might want to stop pushing the gnomes out of your way.”

  “Did you just tell a higher-ranked Venator what to do?” said Sintian. “You’re here to follow Bane’s orders, not question him.”

  “So are you, you suck up,” Evan replied.

  Bane gazed at him, the gold in his green eyes flashing venomously. “I suggest you hold your tongue, trainee. Before I make sure this is your last mission.”

  “Venators are supposed to co-operate with one another, too,” Emi pointed out.

  “The masters also trust High-Realmers more than they do rookies. Don’t make me tell them how disobedient you both were.” Bane snapped at them, before turning away.

  “He’s a right Bikla.” Emillia mouthed. Evan smiled back at her as they trawled through the marketplace.

  The majority of stall vendors were gnomes, selling everything from enchanted jewellery to sweets and meats that Evan hadn’t even seen in Veneseron.

  “Get your Mipsi Marbles right ‘ere. Just hold ‘em an see in the dark.”

  “Don’t buy that junk,” a rival vendor cried. “Come to my stall. I’ve got a two for one offer on Bruja Burgers.”

  The high-pitched voices squeaked out around the market-place as the stall-owners competed with one another for customers. Due to the high volume of gnomes, Padrake had been right in saying it’d be easy to find their informant.

  “That’s our guy.” Bane pointed to one of the stalls.

  At first sight, the vendor looked like an orc, but the longer Evan stared, the more human his features appeared. Turon’s skin was a faded green, compared to other orcs, more of a muddy hue. His tusks were also shorter, his nose less snoutish and his eyes only a faint yellow.

  “Let me do the talking,” Bane ordered, without looking back at them.

  They approached the stall after a trio of sand elves, and one lost looking goblin wandered away.

  “Greetings gentleman, how can I help you?” Turon asked.

  “I believe you already know,” Bane replied.

  The half-orc raised a thick eyebrow.

  “We’re the Realmers, from Veneseron,” Sintian snapped.

  “Proof,” the merchant grunted.

  Sintian was about to reply angrily, but Bane raised his hand first, conjuring a ball of golden flames on his palm.

  “So, you can do magic,” Turon snorted. “That’s a start. It don’t prove you’re from Veneseron though. Show your armour, and a Holophone.”

  Bane did as he asked, gritting his teeth all the while.

  “Very well.” The half-orc bowed his head. “Had to make sure. You can never be too careful.”

  “So, do you have the information we need?” Bane asked.

  Turon held out his hand instead. “I was told there’d be recompense for what I know.”

  “You filthy brute,” Sintian snarled. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, you-”

  “Shut your mouth, rookie,” Bane replied, “and don’t interfere again.”

  Sintian scowled as Bane turned his back on him. Evan guessed Sintian had thought he and Bane were friends, since they believed themselves so much better than him and Emi.

  “Apologies for my companion,” Bane said. “It’s his first mission. Here, take this.” Bane leaned over and dropped a half dozen scion shillings into Turon’s waiting palm.

  “That ain’t enough, Venator,” Turon growled.

  “Yes, that’s half. You’ll get the other half once we have your intel,” Bane replied smoothly.

  “Fair,” Turon grunted. “Brisnik is the fellow you want. He’s the shadiest gnome I know, lifelong thief. I thought that was all he was, but I reckon he joined this cult a few months back. He’s been spouting off at the Emerald Elf inn lately, letting things slip. Everyone on Quantem fears the Dark Dawn, but no one knows who they really are, or where they come from. But I know old Brisnik goes to the Underoads at midnight every night.”

  “The Underoads?” Evan asked. His interruption earned him a sharp glare from Bane, but Evan ignored him. So what if Bane was older and had more experience? He wasn’t going to let himself and Emi be treated like children.

  “An underground network of tunnels and vaults,” said Turon. “A lot of off-colour merchants hide their stock there. The black market is held there once a moon cycle, too. But that’s only the first level. No one goes deeper into the Underoads.” Turon leaned forward and whispered. “The tunnels are infested with Rattarga. I reckon that’s where the cult meets. They must’ve found a way to get down there without being eaten alive.”

  “So how do we get to these Underoads?” Bane demanded.

  “The nearest entrance is a trapdoor behind Ogslo’s Emporium. It’s a huge building with the name in bright orange lights, you can’t miss it. Brisnik himself lives in a secret tavern. You’ll see the directions when you get down there.”

  Bane just nodded mutely and walked away, Sintian not far behind.

  Evan lingered however. “Thanks a lot for this Turon.”

  “Happy to,” Turon replied. “My sister’s a Realmer at the Blutopolis stronghold. I’ve no quarrel giving Realmers valuable information. You lot save more lives than I can count.”

  Evan and Emillia smiled at the half-orc and murmured their thanks once again.

  “Oh, and watch out for Rattarga,” Turon warned. “I know you Venators can take care of yourself, but one bite from a Rattarga and you’ll be infected with Shadow Plague.”

  Turon scowled suddenly and called over to Bane, who was already metres away. “Oi, the other half of my payment! Hand it over.”

  “Sorry, can’t hear you.” Bane called back with a grin.

  Evan and Emi mumbled an apology before hurrying after Bane and Sintian.

  Emillia looked apprehensive as they left the marketplace. “Are we really going to go into some dangerous underground place? I don’t want no Shadow plague. Hey, what’s shadow Plague?”

  Bane shot her a dark look.

  “What’s a Rattarga?” Evan persisted.

  “You’ll find out no doubt,” Bane smiled maliciously.

  *

  Ogslo’s Emporium was a gargantuan building which, judging by the window display, sold everything from pet food for unicorns to spare parts for Airships.

  A dozen or so gnomes flitted in and out of the doors, bathed in the orange glow of the shop’s sign. The four of them headed behind the store, looking for the trapdoor Turon had described. When they rounded the shop, Evan spotted a metal grate set in the ground. Sintian bent down and heaved it open, revealing a set of smooth stone steps leading into darkness.

  “Rookies first,” Bane gestured to Evan and Emillia.

  Evan pret
ended he wasn’t nervous as he stepped through the trapdoor. Emillia was more agitated, but put on a brave face as she followed him. When the stairs levelled off, the darkness was total. Emillia whimpered.

  Evan used the spell, Darkbreaker, forming a small green fireball in his palm, cutting through the immediate gloom. Emillia followed suit, though her fireball trembled, much like its caster.

  “Don’t be scared,” he tried to reassure her. “We’ll look out for each other. I promise.”

  Emillia smiled at him gratefully. “I know, it’s first time nerves. I just don’t want to screw up.”

  He understood why the gnomes had dubbed this place the Underworks. The stone walls pressed in on either side. The path was so narrow that Evan knew a larger race, such as an ogre or a troll, wouldn’t have managed to squeeze through. He suspected that might’ve been the gnomes’ intention when they’d built the underground network. Evan’s head brushed the passage’s ceiling as he walked. He felt like a rat in a sewer.

  Sintian leapt down the steps, landing gracefully beside them. “Grab your weapons,” Sintian ordered. “We’ll need to save our magic. We don’t want to be all out when we reach the cultists.”

  Evan took note, drawing his sword with his free hand. The rasp of Ruaden leaving its scabbard was deafening in the silence. Ruaden was currently in the shape of a dagger, but as Evan held it high he turned the transmutation dial on the hilt, causing Ruaden to lengthen into a sword.

  Eventually the Underworks grew higher and wider, opening up into small clearings with several other tunnels that all veered off in different directions.

  Fortunately, Turon had been lucky about the directions to Brisnik’s tavern. Scratched into the stone of each new tunnel were various names. One tunnel read: Market! Another was signed: Rat Racing This Way. It was the tunnel furthest to the left, however, which read: Brisnik’s Bolthole, that had to be the one.

  They set off down this tunnel quickly. The only noise around them, was their own breathing, which became heavier the longer they walked. After several long minutes they arrived at a much larger clearing. There were only two tunnels here, either side of the cavernous space. One side said that it led to Brisnik’s whilst the other said: Danger! Keep away from this one, you blighters.

  “What the hell?” said Emillia, voicing what Evan was thinking.

  “I don’t know, but let’s not wait to find out,” he said.

  Before Evan took another step, a strange squeaking echoed in the dark. He froze and looked to the others. “Did you hear that?”

  The squeaking came again, and again. Then the stench arrived, an aroma of faeces and decay. He heard the patter of countless padded feet on stone, growing closer and closer. Seconds later, the monsters tumbled out of the opposite tunnel in a frenzy.

  Turon had warned them about the Rattarga. The giant, mutant rats gibbered wildly, caked in filth and dried blood. They had some form of intelligence, for they wielded weapons and stood five-feet-tall, walking upright like men. Their long tails looked like monstrous worms, wriggling behind their furry bodies in ecstasy.

  Evan couldn’t count how many there were. They just kept coming, mad with blood-lust.

  Panic shot through him and he instinctively wanted to run and keep on running until the tunnels were a distant memory, but he forced himself to fight the fear. He could take on rats, giant or not. He was a Venator.

  The grotesque vermin advanced towards them, their noses twitching maniacally and their yellow eyes burning with hunger.

  “Use your weapons only,” Bane ordered, raising his own sword high. “We have to keep the flames going in our free hands. If we lose the light, the Rattarga will rip us to shreds.”

  “Let’s kill the Glarqers,” Sintian roared, charging in headfirst.

  Chapter 29- The Scientist

  Anna stumbled off the path. Maybe drinking those last couple of beers had been a bad idea. Moonlight filtered through the trees, splashing patches of light that Anna used to guide herself home. Normally Rick would have walked her, but he’d been too drunk to stand by the end of the night. Anna wasn’t worried though, she’d walked this path home a hundred times before.

  It was past midnight and the forest was quiet. Anna tried not to think about it. She knew that wild animals could be around, but in England the most she had to worry about was a badger.

  She heard a rustling behind her. Anna whirled, her heart catching in her throat. After several tense seconds she sighed in relief, there was nothing there. Probably just a bird. Even so, she quickened her pace.

  She felt a rush of misplaced air brush across her face, as if a speeding car had raced past her. Again it came, this time from behind, blowing her hair up. She spun around in alarm, what’s happening?

  Then it stopped, and all was calm once more.

  I’ve just had too much to drink that’s all, I’m imagining things.

  A light chuckle carried on the air. Anna wheeled round. Someone’s stalking me. No, someone’s just playing a sick joke.

  “Milo,” she called out to the darkness beyond.

  It would be like her little brother to do something like this, to scare her half to death.

  A sudden flap of wings crashed through the silence. Three bats ripped through the tree branches and soared into the night sky.

  “Evening miss.”

  It hadn’t been a bird rustling in the trees, or some wild animal, but a boy. She’d never seen him anyone like him before. It was as if a marble statue leaned between the trees, with rubies for eyes. Those rubies danced with delight as he gazed at her, his thin red lips stretched to a wide, maniacal grin.

  Burnished bronze hair sparkled in the beam of moonlight that illuminated his angelic face, and the leather jacket he wore hugged his slim body beautifully.

  As Anna opened her mouth to speak, the boy miraculously flickered out of view, as if he’d teleported. A second later he stood between two trees on the opposite side of clearing, still smiling.

  He mimicked her sharp intake of breath when she realised where he’d gone, then flickered out of existence again, materialising between yet another pair of trees.

  “You should not be out so late, little miss.” He spoke in a high, melodic voice.

  “I…I was just going.” She found her voice at last, turning away and trying not to run as fast as she could.

  He appeared directly before her, so close that she could feel his icy breath caress her face. It was pleasant and unsettling at the same time. She yelped and moved away, but he was suddenly behind her too. Anna realised where the odd sensation of misplaced air had come from as he moved.

  “Do you think me beautiful, miss?” He cocked his angelic head to the side as he asked her.

  Anna was so thrown off by his question she temporarily forgot her fear.

  “I…yes, yes.” Anything to get away from you and back home.

  “Shall we start a romance then, you and I?” His grin grew wider, needle-sharp teeth gleaming.

  “What?” She knew her voice had become hysterical, this boy was obviously a lunatic.

  Without warning, his arm blurred out and suddenly his hand cupped her chin. His touch was painfully cold.

  “Hmmm, you are pretty, miss.” He studied her face in mock sincerity. “I should like to kiss those plump lips, would you grant me this boon?”

  “Get away from me!” Anna screamed, her last shred of resolve eradicated.

  Lightning quick, he struck. His slim hand appeared to only to brush her cheek, yet she crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

  “Oh come now miss,” he drawled. “A small token of affection was all I asked.”

  Anna could feel blood inside her mouth, her heart hammered painfully, she couldn’t think straight. She stumbled to her feet, before running as fast as she could.

  She collided with his chest, falling back to the ground.

  “Why would you run miss, that’s what they all do?” He laughed then, a high, sickening sound.

  An
na looked up at him in horror. His once angelic face had become emaciated and sharp. His eyes burned with iniquitous fires and fangs glistened in his mouth.

  “Will you weep now, little miss? Cry for your wretched existence?”

  Anna could find no words to reply, but shook her head feverishly, crawling back in terror.

  She heard flapping and saw that the bats had returned, hovering over the scene. The boy held up a porcelain hand, listening.

  “Do you hear that little miss? The bats, they sing a sweet symphony. About you did you know? Of your death, unfortunately.”

  Anna screamed again, panic and fear consuming her. The boy giggled at her terror, swooping down and raking her face with his hand. His fine black nails split her cheek and she reeled in astonishment. The boy sighed pleasurably, continuing his high chuckle.

  “Why are you doing this?” she choked between tears.

  “I am so sorry, miss.” He looked at her seriously for a second. “But I need to play with my food before I eat it.” The impossibly wide grin returned as he lunged.

  “Eskal!” A deep voice rumbled.

  Eskal raised his bloodstained face from the ripped and ruined girl beneath him.

  “We heard the girl screaming, you fool,” Kaymor snarled.

  “But sire, you must let me play.” Eskal licked the blood off his lips, savouring the moment.

  “Make the body disappear, we leave for the city tonight,” Kaymor commanded.

  “The city, why? More victims to sate upon? This girl was nice, but I need more. Oh, please say yes?” Eskal pleaded with his coven leader.

  “There is a demented werewolf on the loose there.” Kaymor said. “We think he’s been infected by a Wendigo.”

  “Aha,” Eskal said, “a creature like that killed my dear old Ma’.”

  “This rogue’s attacks will be the perfect cover up for our own kills.” Kaymor continued. “As long as you keep your prey’s screams to a minimum, Eskal.”