by G R Jordan
Nefol was up front but Kirkgordon was leading the way, shouting out which direction to take. After twenty minutes of running they had turned down many corridors, all stone, and passed several doors. But now Kirkgordon had stopped and Austerley fought to get his breath back.
“Hell, Churchy,” spat Austerley, “where are we? You seemed to be sure of where we were going.”
“I’ve no idea, Indy.”
“What? But you were telling Nefol which way!”
“All I did was make sure there was no pattern or bias in our decisions so that we would be harder to track. I’m damn well lost, Indy. We need a map.”
“I’ll just see if there’s a local stall round here where we can get a guide book, shall I?”
“Don’t be an arse. We’ll start checking rooms, see if we can get a map for you.”
“And if there’s none?”
“Well, Dagon’s gonna turn up sometime, so I’ll use my divining rod to find him.”
“What divining rod?” asked Nefol.
“Indy. What else?”
“You can’t,” pleaded Austerley.
“I must,” said Kirkgordon. “But first we need a map. I had hoped Farthington might have an idea about the place but that notion’s sailed to the wind.”
“Well, that I don’t mind. I hope it’s the last we see of that bastard.”
Meeting the Missus
Calandra exited the scene of her icy destruction of the guards and stepped out into the corridor. Looking back down the corridor, she shook her head and turned instead to the unexplored part of the passage. As she stepped, she could hear tiny cracking noises from the stone floor. She looked down and saw that there were patches of ice forming around her feet every time they touched the floor. But there was no horror in her mind now, just determination.
After striding down the corridor she reached a junction and had to choose left or right. Continuing down the left channel, she soon heard the sound of slapping feet on the stone. Ah, frog-men, and plenty of them by the sound of it. She considered being elusive and taking another path, but a voice inside spoke to her. Why should she run? Why should she cower? Let them come and test themselves on her. It would be no whirling stick of white that they faced but a full-on winter hell.
Calandra ran towards the sound and soon came face to face with her foes. The frog-men looked at her with bulbous eyes and wide smiles. At least, they looked like they were smiling, their faces fixed in a frog’s grin. A barrage of noises came from them as they sized up their opponent. And then, as if the realization had come to them all at once, they charged forward, hopping and leaping.
Touching both sides of the wall, Calandra laughed loudly. Frost raced down the walls and turned the corridor into an all-encompassing ice rink. Flippers slipped and frog-men crashed to the ground, skidding towards her until the frost grabbed them and stuck them fast to the ice. Within a minute there was no sound in the passage, the hellish war cries of the frog-men now terminated. And Calandra continued laughing.
Oh, this was good, this was how she was meant to be. Inside she roared with wicked joy and yearned for her next victim. Through her body surged a power she had only had once before. Then, she had been in her infancy, trying to understand what she had been given. Then, it had cost her her dear Ferrean, but now it would be different. Now she was its mistress. They had taken Havers, they had taken the priest and they had screwed up Indy and Churchy. They would pay. And then, when she was done, she would be able to have what she wanted.
Kirkgordon came into her mind, always keeping his distance. He obviously hungered for her but was always reticent. Well, now she would take him for her own. He was weak when it came to claiming his own. But she would forgive him that and they would be together. At last, her desires would be sated.
She carried on along the corridor until it opened up into a small hall. On the left-hand side were portcullises and signs over each doorway. There seemed to be no other way out except to return along her previous path. She tried to read the signs but the language wasn’t one she knew, although she could see that some of the symbols in a plain graphic were saying something about caution to be taken with the portcullis.
Laughing disdainfully, Calandra stepped up to the first portcullis and gripped it tight. The metal froze up and shattered, shards dropping to the ground. That was easy. Something bolted out of the now open doorway and took off up the corridor. Another creature followed and then another. Calandra roared with delight before stepping across to every other portcullis and dispatching each with the same joy.
Creatures raced past her, all shapes and sizes, none that she recognized. For a few minutes she stood and watched them race up the corridor. A group of small beetle-like creatures noticed her and ran straight at her. The first, the size of her foot, jumped onto her leg and ripped through her trousers, large pincers becoming evident. Calandra watched as it broke its jaw trying to bite her. As others jumped onto her, she allowed the cold to engulf them and they dropped to floor inert.
Never before had she had such power to wield and so many targets before her. Looking at her hands, she could see right through them and yet such power surged from them. This felt good. She would leave this place now and find Kirkgordon, win him to her side. He could barely resist her before; now it would be impossible. Let him forget that woman of his.
And then she saw it, from the corner of her eye. The slightest imperfection in the air, something that just didn’t look right, a blemish in the print, faint and almost undetectable. Turning to it, she let out a cold stream of breath and watched as a creature half her size became visible. It had pincers, a large pointed limb and an almost complete shell with hundreds of tiny feet underneath its body. There were no eyes. It looked like a deformed cockroach, but crystal blue in colour. Probably from my breath, thought Calandra.
It amused her and she watched it for a while as it trundled around her. Without warning it turned and its pointed limb struck out towards her. It struck her skin and she laughed again as the limb seemed to bounce away. But then her head began to sway. Her body convulsed and Calandra collapsed to the ground. Her eyes were wide open but her body couldn’t move. She felt herself being grabbed by the pinchers.
The creature started to drag her through the portcullis and into the dark beyond. She tried to freeze up but to no avail. Whatever she tried, there was no part of her body that would function except her eyes, and they couldn’t move but just stared straight ahead. But she wasn’t afraid. If it tried to kill her, her body would react. She knew this now. Death would bring out the best in her.
The creature dragged Calandra further into the blackness. The area smelt of animal dung and she heard an occasional splash as she was dragged along, so she was sure there were patches of wet around. In this coldest of states Calandra found it hard to feel the finer subtleties of touch but with the power she wielded, who needed them?
The darkness seemed to go on forever and Calandra became aware of walls around her as her feet bounced off them or her hips caught an obstruction. She tried to close her eyes but there was no response from her eyelids. Inside, a terror was starting to grow, doubting she would ever regain movement, but she quashed this by thinking of the brutal destruction she had already caused. She was almost invincible, wasn’t she?
The creature seemed to have little purpose other than to drag Calandra along. It was apparently far from its nest or feeding ground and was as bizarre a predator as Calandra had ever seen. Surely there must be some young nearby to feed. No animal would put such effort into dragging a victim this far.
But then it dawned on her. The creatures in the sea had swarmed to where Dagon had appeared on the island. At least, the darker creatures had; the seagulls had flown off. If Dagon was about, then the creatures would start to act on his will. And he would have them gather those he was looking for.
Calandra’s bravado now started to evaporate on the inside. The exterior looked as if it had been missing it for the last thirty minute
s at least. Motionless and pitiable.
A shaft of light appeared above her head and she was dragged through an opening. In this new corridor, torches lined the walls and there was wet lichen on the floor. She saw frog-men passing by her, all a little wary. She heard voices and as she rolled to one side she saw a line of cells occupied by a variety of creatures, all humanoid and upright. A few grabbed the bars of their cell as she was dragged past, howling at their incarceration. One spat on her. A door opened and Calandra was flung into a cell.
The cell’s solid walls contained a pool with a thin edge. Calandra hit the water and sank until she felt her head hit the bottom of the shallow pool. A pair of hands grabbed her head and pulled it above the water. Calandra couldn’t spit out the water and was beginning to choke. Her helper turned her around and Calandra coughed away the next few moments. Slowly, Calandra was thawing and she was aware that the hands holding her were female. Her saviour dragged her onto the narrow edge of the pool close to the wall.
“No wonder he’s obsessed with you. Some sort of good-looking freak.”
Calandra was unsure who was speaking but she decided to go along with it until she could get a handle on the situation.
“Make sure you leave your hands off him. What’s wrong, not speaking? Just another part of this hellish parade that professor dragged him into.”
Despite the pain she was in, something scratched at the back of Calandra’s mind. She had faced a hydra and fought off frog-men and a fully fledged dragon, but this was a foe to surpass them all. Was foe even the right word? This woman had done nothing except struggle to understand her man’s troubles. But maybe that was it; she wasn’t worthy of him. She was unable to get into that dark layer that had taken root within Kirkgordon.
“Hello, Alana. Enjoying your trip?”
Calandra looked at the woman leaning over her and saw herself looking back. The skin was less pale but there was the long black hair, the full figure – not as trim as herself, muscles less toned but a similar shape. No, the hips were wider. But then, she was a mother. Another advantage she had.
Alana turned away and sat on the edge of the pool. The gown she wore was wet from the waist down and her legs looked cold. Her eyes were heavily bagged and red from tears.
“How long have you been here?”
Alana threw a look that said What’s it to you? before holding up four fingers and a thumb from her left hand.
“Hours or days?”
“Days! Five damn days!” Alana lowered her head again.
“And before that?”
“Before that I was in the company of that blasted dragon-man, but at least he was tolerable. He didn’t mistreat me or leave me in a stinking pond like this. But then the frog people came.” Here Alana began to shake. “What the hell are they?”
“They’re humans.”
“Humans!” Alana’s face went white. “How? Is that what they intend to do to us?”
Calandra locked down the panic building inside and decided to ease Alana’s fears. “No, we’re more likely to be a sacrifice.”
“A sacrifice? They’re going to kill me?”
Damn, thought Calandra, I thought she had realized that. She watched the woman opposite start to judder, sharp sniffs from her nose trying to pull back the calm that was leaving her to be replaced by sheer terror.
“Where is he? Why isn’t he here to get me?”
“I don’t know where he is,” said Calandra, “but he’ll be looking for you.”
“You’ve lost him?”
“Well actually, I was attacked, along with Major Havers.”
“Havers? He said he was a bastard.”
“Probably a dead one by now. He was overtaken by a horde of the frog-men when we were looking for you.”
“Oh. But where’s my husband?”
“I don’t know. But he’ll be close. He was with us in the city. Along with Austerley.”
“I hope they get Austerley. I hope they take him and sacrifice him for all that’s he’s done to my family.”
Calandra stood up from the water and strode over to Alana, grabbing her by the arm. “Don’t ever say that about him. He’s a mess and unhinged but he came to help find you. He brought his foot of evil and risked his life—”
“Foot of evil! That’s the problem with him isn’t it? My husband was a little restless before he met Austerley but he was never involved in this sort of shit! I mean, what is all this stuff? Dagon, dragons, a place that can’t exist but does through some sort of wormhole? What is this hell that Austerley has dragged us all into?”
“It’s my world, Alana. Welcome to my worlds.”
Major Havers Fights Back
Havers hung suspended from the dank, grey stone ceiling. Beneath him he heard the stirrings of the fish in the water. His wrists were bleeding and blood had dripped into the water, causing the frenzy that had started below. His toes were some two feet from the pool and he wondered if the fish could leap. A sudden blur of colour that bit into his leg confirmed his suspicion and he fought hard to shake the creature off. As it fell back into the pool, Havers raised his legs and curled himself up until his feet met his hands. Safe for the moment, but this was no long-term solution.
Sick bastards these frog-men, thought Havers, but then that’s my job. Keeping the general public free from these creatures. And free from Farthington. The name cut into his core and he felt his arms tense even more, despite his already compromised position.
His torso was bare and his shoes and socks had been removed. However, he was still wearing his trousers. He laughed. The strain was too much and he coughed strongly, half choking as he fought to keep his lungs working. They should have stripped me naked, he thought, it’s almost amateur. In fact they should have killed me right then and there. I’m a Havers and if you don’t put us down then you’ll be taken care of. We’ve always been that way.
A picture of a man with a neat moustache entered his head. He had a lithe figure, strong and spritely. He didn’t smile much and his eyes were hard and cold. Havers saw the man standing before a pit of fire, holding a gun to the head of a tiny animal. There were voices crying “shoot”, but the man’s hand shook and the gun remained quiet. And then the animal tore the man apart.
“Father…”
Havers heard the words echo around the small room as his eyes flicked open. All he smelt was the unrelenting fustiness as he gazed at the bland, damp, infested interior. He’d never make his father’s mistake. Of his parents, his father had been the more compassionate one, despite being a British agent. A British agent who fell in love with a Russian. A strong woman from Moscow who managed to maintain an affair with his father despite them being on two different sides.
She was gone so often and he had lived mainly with his father. But she had been fervent in her protection of him. And even by the young age that she left him, she had already taught him so much. His mind drifted and he saw snow. It was a small clearing in the woods and she was walking away from him. Beside him were two men he had seen with his mother on so many occasions, men who had given her orders.
Her long, dark hair shook from side to side as she walked and he saw the tremble in her left hand. Never had she shown a moment of fear or worry in all the time he had known her. And then there had been blood in the snow, a deep red that ran into diluted pink as it spread. She had fallen away from him, her face buried in the snow, hidden from the twelve-year-old.
He had been brought up in a world of hiding and subterfuge, death and fear, but this was the first time that he had killed. Two small darts struck his mother’s murderers and they fell quickly. He had lain in the snow for hours with her until he had heard the others, those sent to see what had happened. Twenty-four hours later he had found his way back to the British embassy and was on his way back to home, having lost the only true “home” he had known.
Yes, they had made a mistake leaving him his trousers. In a convolution an Olympic gymnast would have been proud of, Havers twisted
until his face was in front of his waistband. Biting into the fabric, he removed a small saw with his teeth. The implement was only three inches long but he skilfully manipulated it as he pulled himself up to the ropes that bound him.
Within minutes, Havers was unbound and holding himself above the pool of carnivorous fish by the loose bindings. He looked around and saw no place to stand in the room. The pool beneath went from wall to wall. The door to the room was extremely solid and had no keyhole or other fixing on the interior. He had no idea how they had got him into his bindings, as he had been unconscious after the attack at the church and when he woke up he was already in them.
Swinging on the bindings, Havers managed to reach the door and give it a strong kick with his bare feet. The sound resonated in the small room and Havers emitted some wild shrieks. Again he kicked the door and repeated his cries. Someone, or something, had to come.
It took some ten minutes of yelling before the door opened. Havers was warned of the action by the sound of bars and bolts being removed. As it opened, Havers kicked the door onto whoever had opened it, trapping that person between the door and wall. The person had bulbous eyes – a frog-man. Havers dropped onto the door and swung a punch into one of those eyes. His body ached from his suspension but he forced all thoughts of pain aside and drove punch after punch into the frog-man. Kicking the wall, Havers swung atop the door as it opened again and he saw the frog-man topple into the water. The liquid became crazily agitated and green foam began to build, but the frog-man didn’t emerge from the water. Havers didn’t wait to examine this. He swung out of the door into the corridor beyond.
As soon as he landed, Havers was struck by something hard and wet which caused him to bounce into the stone wall of the corridor, cracking his head. Fighting back the grogginess that was forming, he saw another frog-man bearing down on him. As the creature bent over him, he drove an open hand into the creature’s throat and felt it break through the skin and into the windpipe.