by A. L. Brooks
Behind him, a pack of hissing, moaning hell beasts piled after him. But ahead, he caught glimpses of Locke’s serpent and heard attack howls from Grimah. There were still no sign of Melai however. Nor of Hawkmoth for that matter.
Rain pelted down as he charged along roof, gaining speed and leaping across to the next train. Landing on its roof he kept running, his heavy footfalls leaving indents in the metal; behind him ghost-hounds clawed after him, gaining on him swiftly.
He reached the next carriage, noticing Locke now and the serpent away in the direction Melai had been flung. Gargaron leapt from carriage, the pack of hell hounds close on his heel, jumping after him. Hearing them snapping at his neck, he spun about in midair, slicing three of them in two, blue flame licking up his sword blade as if it were hot oil and not blood that gushed forth.
He landed heavily on his back in gravel, his momentum heaving him spine-first against the adjacent carriage, his weight rocking it momentarily from its tracks as hell hounds spilled about him; one of them falling beneath carriage as the train rocked back over, squashing the beast’s face in an explosion of brain and blood and fire.
Gargaron booted the remaining beasts away, giving him time to pull his shield from under him and fend off another pair hurling themselves from top of train. They pelted against shield and carriage. He rolled over, got to his knee and shield bashed one on his left and scythed off the head of another on his right.
He scrambled backwards, slashing, ramming, and heaving hounds as blue flame from downed monsters took to both train and weed. As he took care of the last beast he saw another mass of them scurrying up between carriages toward him. ‘By Ranethor, do they not get the hint?’
He scrambled up side of train, hauling himself to roof, and just as he did the carriage further back shunted violently outwards from where it lay, as if it were a mere paper box kicked aside by some bored child. It flew outwards and slammed violently against the train opposite, squashing the oncoming hell beasts between carriages; a blue fireball mushrooming into the sky.
The heat were blistering, even from this distance, and Gargaron leapt to ground, scurrying around the end of the carriage, shielding himself against the furnace. Crouching there panting, he saw Locke’s serpent coil its huge body around a mass of ghost-hounds, squeezing them as they spat and hissed and bit and squealed. As she did, Zebra dislocated her mighty horizontal jaws and sunk her sword-like teeth through them all, chomping them in half as flame flared up around her face. Meanwhile, Locke were backing along an overturned carriage, using his mysterious blowflute; clouds of darts flew from the strange weapon, burying deep into their assailants…
Doing no damage whatsoever, Gargaron saw.
The beasts kept coming. Locke reverted to his moon-blade, slicing meaty chunks from the monsters as they flew at him. Gargaron thought the crabman were getting the better of them until another pack clambered up behind him, swamping him. Locke laughed as the beasts did their best to bite into him, to flood him with flame. ‘Ha! Foul demons! I am impervious to fire! But do your best if it please you!’ And with that he drove two of his spiked crab feet up through the belly of one and tore the beast open, black guts and blood gushing out, splashing down the windows of the train car, steaming and stinking.
Gargaron, still wondering where Melai were, uncertain if she were safe or lying somewhere injured, went to Locke’s aid. Only to have a dozen hell-hounds emerge from between boxcars and pile after him.
9
Gargaron clambered onto Locke’s upturned carriage but he felt the hounds jump him and cling to him like ants on meat, their grubby claws and filthy teeth digging into his shoulders, his neck, his back, his limbs. He couldn’t free his sword arm. He did his best to throw them aside but they stuck to him like limpets.
He jumped from the carriage, taking them with him, spinning over whilst airborne so that when he landed he crushed most of them beneath him. Bones cracked and blood spurt and fire roared about him. Still, two of them kept their hold.
He was able to clamber to his feet, one of the hounds hanging from his arm. He slung about and dashed it against the side of carriage, snapping its snarling head backwards, blood gushing from its mouth, blue flames licking up his arm. He reached over his shoulder to yank the other from his back but he found Grimah tearing at it with both mouths. Grimah ripped it free, spat it out, then trampled it to pulp.
Gargaron dashed now to Locke who were still fighting his way from beneath a pack of beasts. But there were no respite. On they came, another swarm of hell-hounds, scrambling up the space between carriages, clambering over the tops of boxcars.
Gargaron were again flooded by monsters. He and Grimah both. And Locke too. Zebra whipped and coiled her body, knocking them flying but their tenacity were something to behold. Even she were soon overpowered by sheer force of numbers.
Gargaron found himself pinned to ground. His sword and shield had been dragged from him. He punched and kicked and snapped bones, but the flames these creatures dragged with them were scorching and he were running out of strength and breath.
10
There came an explosive blast from seemingly nowhere. Then Locke were laughing, yelling, ‘Ha! Have some of that you stinking dogs!’
Something punched a mighty hole straight through the chests of two of the fire fiends mounted on Grimah. Instantly both crumpled and slid from Grimah’s hide, dropping to ground, dead. Almost without pause, another fiend were blown apart in similar manner, one hanging from Grimah’s mane. And barely a sunflare later, most of the pack assaulting Gargaron were blown to bits, body parts and streaks of blue fire exploding out across earyth and carriage.
Hawkmoth, Gargaron thought.
Encouraged now, and free of assailants, he scrambled to his feet and looked around. He saw no sign of the sorcerer however. Another hound came belting toward him; he were without sword and shield, so braced himself to take the beast on with bare fists. Something shot down from above, blasting the monster, knocking it backwards, innards from its chest cavity blown out through its back in a blast of flame.
Gargaron dashed for his weapons, diving for them, snatching them up, and rolling over onto his knee. He slashed aside a hound galloping at him before peering about, searching for whoever or whatever had taken out these ghost-hounds.
Then saw her. And his heart warmed. Melai.
11
She hovered there, bow and arrow deployed, slinging another shot, the arrow, its tip glowing white hot, zipping at its target. It made impact and exploded through the hound’s ribs, punching its guts out through its chest in a spectacular explosive blast.
She nocked another arrow, pulling it into aim, surveying the area. From her height she had clear view back along the rows of carriages. She could see Hawkmoth toward the terminal, smiting a pack of ghost hounds. But after them there came no more. It appeared, for now at least, the onslaught had quit. She swooped down to giant. ‘Are you harmed?’ she asked.
‘I be as well as I can,’ Gargaron replied, managing a stoic smile. He were covered in claw wounds and bite marks, and purple blood seeped down his arms and neck but he were not in any immediate peril. Grimah too, bleeding and scratched but looking resolute, determined, his proud and fierce eyes on constant look out for any renewed attacks.
Behind them Locke hoisted himself into Zebra’s saddle. ‘Oh, is that all?’ he asked, looking about. ‘I were just getting started!’ Both of them were blood splattered and scratched and bitten.
‘What of you, Melai?’ Gargaron asked. ‘I saw you flung across sky.’
‘I be well. But I declare my consciousness were thrown from me for some time. I cannot say why or how, nor what caused it. But I fear it were the work of the presence that still hides within the terminus.’
In the distance another train carriage were thrust from its tracks. Moments later Razor galloped toward them, Hawkmoth mounted in saddle. ‘How are we all?’ the sorcerer asked, his beard and hair a straggled sweating mess.
&nbs
p; ‘As good as can be,’ Gargaron reported.
‘Though you could throw a few more of those fiends my way,’ came Locke’s jovial voice. ‘I were just getting warmed up.’
Hawkmoth grinned. ‘Oh? Well, you may just have your wish, crabman. For I fear that whatever Melai sensed slumbering in yonder terminal be waking.’
‘Good,’ Locke said. ‘Main course at last.’
‘That as may be, Locke, though I feel it probably be too big for your appetite.’
‘Oh, I have rather a large appetite, sorcerer,’ Locke protested grinning.
‘I’m sure you have,’ Hawkmoth said. ‘Still, I would urge you all proceed to your train, for it departs as we speak. I need not remind you that it might be the last train for the Northlands for a while. Probably a good idea not to miss it.’
12
Hawkmoth lead the way, charging between the rows of carriage and boxcar and wagon until they met the railcourse on which their garetrain were now well beyond the railyards, gathering speed, heading northways from Appleford, suspended beneath the line-beam that vanished off into the far distance. ‘Hurry now,’ Hawkmoth called.
Behind them however, something had arisen from the terminus and when Gargaron looked back he spied a mountainous shadow filling the sky. It were so vastly tall it made him look like a child’s toy. In all his years, in all his travels, he had never lain eye upon such an entity. And toward them it turned.
‘Hawkmoth?’ Gargaron called. ‘Do you see that thing?’
‘Aye.’
‘What be it? I have never seen its like before.’
‘I fear it be Jhegoth, star demon,’ Hawkmoth called back. ‘And I have known witches employ its services.’
Locke laughed. ‘At least now we have a true opponent on which to test ourselves.’
‘Oh, we’ll not face it if we can help it,’ Hawkmoth called across to the crabman. ‘Sorry to disappoint you but our safest bet is to reach the garetrain and lose it for pace.’
13
The colossal star demon, with its eyes burning blue and the ground shaking beneath its feet, began to trudge after them. Its gait were slow and cumbersome but such were its size, each of its immense strides covered a huge distance. Thus it gained on them quickly.
The hooves of Grimah and Razor thundered across ground, and Zebra were almost silent as she slithered ahead of them, her swishing tail almost a blur. Above them all, keeping clear of the line-beam, were Melai, flying swiftly.
Bolts of blue light began peppering grass and gravel around them, blasting out small craters, throwing dirt and grit and stones to all points. And when Gargaron looked he saw these projectiles pelting from the star demon’s eyes.
Hawkmoth suddenly pulled Razor around. Gargaron watched him, yelling, ‘Sorcerer, what are you doing?’
‘Jhegoth be far too swift. And will catch us before we reach our train. I must slow it down. Now fetch yourselves onwards! You too Locke! Get going!’
Locke, who had slowed down, now pulled Zebra back in the direction of the train. ‘Quite unfair!’ he yelled as Zebra sped on. ‘Some folk have all the fun!’
14
Hawkmoth hauled Razor up, leapt from saddle and brought his staff into play. As Jhegoth strode toward him, its legs deep and lost amidst a mountain of blue flame, Hawkmoth began to spin his staff above his head like some circus performer with a baton. It spun faster and faster until his moving arms were but a blur and the staff were lost from sight. It were here he slammed his staff into the ground at lightning speed, and from Rashel (his staff’s angel visage) came a squeal so loud and piercing that it made Grimah howl, and Zebra screech, and momentarily sucked all sound from the ears of Gargaron, Melai and Locke.
What Gargaron saw next he saw in dead silence. A mighty white light spewed from Rashel’s mouth, as if she had regurgitated some mighty dinner, and like a ripple on a pond, a shimmering wave pushed out through the rain… and slammed into the star demon.
Jhegoth staggered… flames flaring and billowing skywards.
Sound roared back into the ears of Gargaron, Melai and Locke as the darkened sky lit up with blue fire.
Hawkmoth were not done. Again he spun his staff. Again he slammed it to earyth, again Rashel squealed, sucking the air once more from giant, nymph and crabman. And once more a wave of shimmering white light vomited from Rashel’s mouth and again the wave crashed around the star demon like titanic ocean waves on a rocky shore.
Jhegoth let out a mighty roar. It shook the terminus and train yards, shook the very earyth. Yet Jhegoth hung its head, as if struck by a mighty blow… and fell to its knee.
Hawkmoth wasted not a moment. He climbed back into Razor’s saddle and took off once more for the garetrain.
15
The others were just off the train’s tail now, galloping, slithering. Avoiding the line-beam, Melai swooped down and landed heavily on carriage roof, rolling awkwardly but gripping the knotted mass of vines that still clung to the carriage, preventing herself spilling over the side. Below her, Gargaron brought Grimah alongside the rear carriage where he reached out and grabbed the railing before sliding from saddle onto back of train. He came aware of some commotion behind him. When he turned, he saw Hawkmoth and Razor coming up on Zebra’s swishing tail, but just behind them were a pack of scrambling ghost-hounds. Do they never give up? Gargaron wondered.
‘Oh, you bring us left overs, I see,’ Locke called to Hawkmoth, pulling his blowflute into play.
‘Aye,’ Hawkmoth called back. ‘Don’t say I never give you anything.’
Locke blew off a round of darts. Again they buried into the bodies of the coming hounds, and again, as far as Gargaron could see, they had no effect.
‘The idea be to kill them, crabman,’ Hawkmoth reminded him, waving his staff at them. Rashel spat out a mouthful of seeds that tumbled across ground before bursting to life, shooting out a hundred branches in but a sunflare, spearing the hounds through skull and torso, stopping them dead in their tracks.
More were on their way. And in the distance behind them, Jhegoth were slowly lifting itself to its feet.
‘Take them down,’ Hawkmoth yelled, kicking Razor into greater pace.
‘Oh? And where are you going?’ Locke wanted to know.
‘To the locomotive,’ Hawkmoth answered. ‘We need this train at a quicker speed. Jhegoth will surely catch us if not.’ Now he turned his attention on Gargaron. ‘Get the carriage open giant, and the steeds on board. Razor will drop back once he has carried me forward. Yar!’ He kicked Razor’s ribs and the steed thundered forward.
Melai wedged her feet beneath one of the vines, and fluttered her wings to remain as stationary as she could. Here she deployed her bow.
The hounds advanced quickly. As Melai fired at them, Zebra railroaded them, tripping them up. Though they were quickly back on their feet. Melai took some of them out with incendiary arrows but many reached the train and, like spiders, clambered up the sides of the carriage. Gargaron thrust his sword at them, Grimah snapped at them as he galloped along.
They bore down on Melai. She leapt into the air, they leapt after her, she fired punch arrows that blasted them backwards into the line-beam where they were sliced in half instantly, their two halves, aflame, tumbling away to ground. Three successive beasts she sent into the beam.
Locke had to duck to avoid being hit by one, hauling Zebra away from the train. Hounds went after him. One clawing its way up Zebra’s scaly hide. Locke fired his blowflute at it and Gargaron saw the darts lob deep into the beast’s chest. Gargaron were about to tell Locke to give up on his glorified “harp” when something happened: the ghost-hound suddenly caved in on itself, as if a hundred years of desiccation besieged it in but mere moments. It let go of Zebra and crashed to ground where it split apart like an old carcass, flames roared and its bones went flicking off in every direction.
‘Ha,’ yelled Locke, ‘see how you like that!’ and he blew out another flurry of magic darts and another handful of beast
s crumpled and crippled and ploughed into the gravel, bursting bones all over the place, fire curling into the sky.
Gargaron turned for the carriage’s rear door. As the good sorcerer had said, they needed to get their mounts on board. A boxcar would have been ideal but they had to work with what they had. That meant going through this door. Though the vines still barricaded the entrance point.
Bolts of blue fire suddenly pelted the train and the land about it. Gargaron glanced over his shoulder and saw Jhegoth again pursuing the garetrain. Gaining speed. It would catch them soon if Hawkmoth did not have this vehicle pick up its pace. And its projectiles would sooner or later have the train in ruin.
Gargaron slashed his great sword through the vines. As before, there came a howl of anger from within the carriage and the “arms” recoiled. He lifted his leg and one well timed boot had the door off its hinges and punched back into the carriage. He stooped and peered in.
He saw it now. The entity that had not so long ago claimed these carriages as its own, the ones whose many varied limbs had held the train like a clutch of strangling brambles. A strange looking beast it were, a torso with a head and a myriad arms. It hung there at opposite end of carriage like a spider in its web. And it eyed Gargaron with loathing.
16
Gargaron put the star demon from his mind. He hefted up shield and sword, and edged slowly down carriage interior toward the peculiar fiend.
It watched him coming. It were the colour of clammy bones. Yellowish, mapped with hundreds of hairline cracks. Its eyes were watery and red, and the moment Gargaron were in range its jaw parted and out punched a long, pointed tongue.
Gargaron deflected it with his shield, but the tongue were so sharp and quick it punctured the metal plate on shield’s front.
It retracted with blurring speed and twice more it fired and cut through the shield, but a third strike saw Gargaron dart left and slice it off.