by J. M. Topp
‘We may need to leave him here,’ said Coda. ‘Seeing his compatriots like this will only slow his ability to slay the beast who did this.’ He stared down at Tsoryg’s body.
‘You will not leave me here,’ said Theodric, looking up at Elymiah, this time with an angry frown. ‘I will find this beast, and I will kill it. For the sake of my brethren, I will have my revenge.’
Elymiah looked up to the night sky. ‘Tsoryg said it wasn’t a cyclops. If it wasn’t a cyclops, then what could have done all this?’
THE FIRST SIGN that they were near the Caves of Vammar Sanctum was a stinging wave of heat. It was similar to the heat Elymiah remembered experiencing at the Red Vale Keep, but this wave of heat carried a stench unlike any she had smelt before. She closed her eyes and covered her nose. It was so staggering that even Coda covered his face with a rag. Elymiah heard Theodric vomit behind them. Then she saw the entrance to the caves.
The caves seemed to have been punched into a hill. Large rough boulders surrounded the opening, and the earth was pocked just like the outskirts of the Moonlit Valley had been. This time, footprints could be seen around the boulders, as if whoever left them had been less cautious about leaving evidence of their presence. The prints looked much like a human’s but were six times bigger.
Once Theodric had emptied the contents of his stomach, he stood up and wiped his lips. He wavered. Elymiah studied him for a moment. He seemed to have regained most of his composure. His usual sullen look had returned and was etched onto his face. He motioned to Elymiah’s metallic arm. ‘Has it been serving you well?’
‘So far.’
‘You haven’t tapped into its power yet?’
‘What?’
‘Did I fail to mention—I suppose I did,’ said Theodric. ‘Think. Focus your mental strength to the limb.’
‘Really?’ scoffed Elymiah. ‘What are you—’
The steel limb felt heavy and stiff on her arm, but then something happened. Instantly the runes lit up blue, and suddenly, it felt like her hand had been restored to her. The metal fingers moved just as those of her real hand had, but it felt different. More powerful and strong. Elymiah studied the blue runes, which had now dimmed to a faint glow. She flexed and extended her fingers, in awe of this odd invention.
‘That’s much better. Now let’s kill this bastard,’ said Theodric through his teeth, staring at the mouth of the cave.
‘Something is bothering me,’ said Elymiah, kneeling down to inspect a small indentation on the ground. ‘In Tsoryg’s dying words, he said it was not a cyclops. What could have done something like that if not Kveikur?’
Coda chewed his lip. Elymiah knew that the way the daemon hunters had been attacked didn’t add up. Something was off about the whole thing.
‘It’s bothering me too,’ Coda finally admitted.
‘My father is somewhere in those caves. We have to get him out. I just want to know what I’m getting into.’ Elymiah flexed her steel hand. ‘Theodric, we will need light.’
Theodric nodded, pulled a torch from his pack, and lit it with a match. The torch caught flame and flickered in Elymiah’s eyes.
‘I know one thing for certain. That creature is cruel and smart,’ she said.
‘A terrible combination,’ responded Coda.
‘I will take the lead,’ said Elymiah, taking Theodric’s torch from his hand. ‘Theodric, get behind Coda and me. You guard the rear.’
Both men nodded without giving protest. Elymiah closed her eyes, sighed, and calling her willpower to her side, drew Alamánd. Light danced on the sharp edge of the blade. She pushed her cloak over her shoulder to have both arms free and entered the cave, the torch flickering before her. She walked hunched over so as to not hit her head on the stone ceiling. The yellow light burned with a thick smell of oil that masked the stench of faeces and rotting flesh slightly. Elymiah was grateful for the small respite. The pathway opened up somewhat larger than the entrance, allowing her to relax her stance a little more. She’d half expected to be attacked upon entering to the caves, but all that met them was silence and darkness. Not even the characteristic dripping of water that she’d been used to hearing in Karagh Muín echoed through the Caves of Vammar Sanctum. Theodric and Coda followed her closely, not making a sound behind her. The cave pathway turned to the right and then to the left, creating a winding path. A small line of slime streamed down the cavern walls like syrup onto the floor. Elymiah did her best not to stick her foot into the mire, but once, her foot slipped, nearly making her fall. When her boot touched the stream, a puff of smoke rose up into the air. She quickly drew her foot back from the acidic slime.
‘Watch your step,’ she said, inspecting her leather boot. A small hole appeared at the tip. She was relieved that the acid hadn’t eaten further into her boot, but the hole would need to be mended before too long. She continued to walk down the cavernous path deeper into the mountain. The deeper they went, the stronger the smells became. Elymiah had to put her sleeve to her nose to filter the rank odour.
A high-pitched scream echoed through the cave, causing her to stop in her tracks.
‘Another daemon hunter?’ asked Coda.
‘That was no human,’ said Elymiah. She had heard that scream before. Her eyes widened. What was so familiar about it?
‘Kveikur?’ asked Theodric.
‘It didn’t sound like any cyclops I’ve ever heard before,’ said Coda, glancing to his sides.
‘How many have you heard before?’ asked Theodric, sneering at Coda. Coda glared back.
‘Let’s not find out,’ said Elymiah as she walked in between them. She clenched her teeth and moved forward.
The path made a turn to the left, leading into an opening in the cavern. The top of the opening was exposed to the moon of the valley. A faint ray of blue light spilt in through the ceiling, illuminating the cavern. A large mound of bones rested on the ground underneath the opening. Somehow, the stench was worse inside this part of the cave, but Elymiah didn’t understand how a smell like this could exist. Once again, Theodric heaved, but he couldn’t empty anything more from his stomach.
‘Well, this explains a lot,’ said Coda, who was somehow not as sick as Elymiah or Theodric. Swarms of flies zipped over the bones like a swirling black cloud. Elymiah decided it was best to stay as far from the mound of bones and rotting flesh as possible. Her eyes caught the continuation of the path going deeper into the ground.
‘Theodric, are you familiar with the legends surrounding the Caves of Vammar Sanctum? I mean, before the cyclopses rose from the seas and inhabited this place?’ asked Coda, pacing carefully. Theodric coughed and wiped slobber with his sleeve, shaking his head.
‘Vammar was a holy man from the region of Aivaterra, kind of like you, Elymiah. He was excommunicated,’ said Coda. Elymiah stopped herself from clenching her fists. She peered over the flames of the torch as they walked but strained an ear to listen to Coda.
‘During the First Age of Fog, he miraculously made it to the Isles of Brume without a boat or compass. In those times, the Isles were mostly uninhabited.’
As they rounded the large cavern, Theodric turned his head once more to dry heave. Elymiah shook her head and motioned for Coda to continue his story.
‘It was said that he roamed the Moonlit Valley in search of food and water. He was near to death at this point. But then, someone found him. A woman with beautiful black hair and eyes blue as the crystal seas found him and nourished him back to health. Some say it was an angel. She was as beautiful as the stars in the sky are infinite. Vammar instantly fell in love with her, and when he regained his strength, he planned on bringing her back to Aivaterra, but then something happened. He began to have visions of the woman being fucked by other men—some of them his friends and family. Jealousy filled his soul, and just as he was about to sail out to the LaFoyelle Sea, he beat her over the head with a stone, knocking her unconscious. It was said that he turned the small boat around and dragged her back into the M
oonlit Valley, to these very caves. For years, he raped the woman, giving her just enough nourishment to keep her living, but not enough for her to escape. The gods saw this cruelty but didn’t curse Vammar. Instead, they gave supernatural powers to the woman. She grew in strength and size, little by little so that Vammar wouldn’t be able to tell right away. Finally, when he could tell, she was as big as the mountain. She burst through the mount, freeing herself. But she didn’t have the heart to strike at Vammar to kill him in revenge. The vile man Vammar then realised the evil he had committed and remained in the caves, away from any other human soul for the remainder of his life, as self-punishment. Thus, he created the Sanctum.’
‘What happened to the woman?’ asked Elymiah.
‘It is said that she was filled with so much anger, hatred, and sorrow, for deep down in her heart, she had truly loved him. So she decided to take her revenge out on his people. She swam across the LaFoyelle Sea and crossed Troseaway Canyon, barefoot and without food or water. Once she reached Aivaterra, she began to attack the city, screaming and toppling the walls and buildings. The First Age of Fog had ended at this point, and Aivaterra was strong. The Hallowed Masters had not yet taken control of the city, but its ancient houses commanded the armies. Aivaterra was able to defeat and capture the giant woman with harpoons and thick iron chains. Not much is known about what really happened after that. Some people think she was cut up into tiny pieces and served to Oredmere. Others think that she is alive today and is being held in the darkest dungeons beneath the Aivaterran holy city—so far beneath the earth that the air is not breathable. So far beneath that all that is left is the insanity of the ages.’ Coda took a deep breath. ‘Though, some historians and myth peddlers say her soul is being kept somewhere in these very caves.’
‘That’s dumb. How could her soul be somewhere her body is not?’ asked Theodric.
‘I don’t make the rules.’ Coda shrugged. ‘I just hear the stories.’
Theodric tilted his head and paused for a moment. ‘We actually have a name for that woman,’ he said.
‘Oh you do?’ Coda craned his neck toward Theodric.
‘To the Veledred she is known as Sophiel, the Mother of Giants,’ said Theodric.
‘Hush,’ said Elymiah as they neared the other end of the large cavern. More slime streamed down the hollow path. The story struck Elymiah as odd. She had never heard of such a woman in all her education. Bertrand had never mentioned an event where a giant woman attacked the city. Perhaps, like most myths, it was merely just that, but she didn’t want to contradict Coda. There was no time for it.
Elymiah made her way down the path. She didn’t know how far it would go. They had enough food and water for Coda and herself but none for Theodric. They would have to ration it. She wondered how much farther the caverns went. She flexed her steel hand, then took a step onto even ground. It almost caught her off guard, but there was no slime on the ground anymore. Elymiah looked up and realised she was no longer in a cave.
Long rusted chains lined the sides of white and grey walls that smelt of saltpetre. It seemed like some sort of chapel entrance. Some of the chains moved through the iron rings as they walked by.
‘The entrance to Vammar’s Sanctum,’ said Coda. ‘This is where the Mother of Giant’s soul is said to have been held captive for years.’
Elymiah held the torch in front of her to see farther down the long hall, but only darkness rested at the other end. At that moment, a wave of fear hit her. Something was off. She felt a tingling in her neck. The chains began to move faster and faster. Something was pulling the chains along the cavern.
Suddenly, a long chain began to move through the rungs above, and then it stopped abruptly. Elymiah gasped as the walls started to quiver.
‘Get back!’ she shouted.
But it was too late. The trap had been sprung.
A piece of wall broke away and slammed into the other side of the hallway, sending a strong gust of wind against Elymiah, separating her from Theodric and Coda. Dust flew up into her face, but then another wall slammed against the other side, this time much closer to her. She turned and ran down the length of the hallway. Wall after wall came crashing behind her, and she barely avoided being crushed. Her vision was clouded as dust and chunks of wall hit her body and face. Elymiah screamed as she ran to the end of the hallway, but just as she was about to cross through the exit, a thick piece of wall snapped loose and slammed against her body with a loud crack.
Path of a Daemon Hunter
EYMEG STEPPED THROUGH the splintered door that was hanging in pieces on the doorframe by a rusted iron swivel. The swivel creaked eerily as wind softly blew against the broken door. The small house seemed to be frozen in the moment of the attack. Dried spots of blood were splattered on the stone walls and in the centre of the room. An oak bed lay in pieces in a corner, and straw was scattered around the room. Picture frames hung sideways or had been toppled onto the floor, torn, broken, and unrecognisable. Eymeg knelt to inspect the splotches of blood. Jolien walked up behind him and gasped.
‘Perhaps it’s best you wait outside, Jolien,’ he said.
‘No, and stop telling me to wait outside.’ She cleared her throat and squinted into the dark corners of the house. ‘I want to see this.’
‘It’s not very pretty,’ said Eymeg, studying the marks on the floor. From the splotches of blood and heavy stench in the air, it was clear there were two victims. Eymeg was astonished that there hadn’t been more interference with the scene of the crime. Except for one boot print, the scene had remained relatively intact. The metallic taste of spilt blood hung in the air.
Jolien scanned the room. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, glancing at a toppled picture frame.
‘It was no Thamnon, of that I am certain.’ Eymeg stood up, his eyes wandering to the open window. A slight breeze blew in, throwing a strange chill over his skin.
‘How could you be so certain?’ asked Jolien.
‘Thamnon, as the Aivaterrans call them, are not known for consuming their victims like the bodies Lord Fastolph mentioned. They tear and rend with anger and loud noises. Though a lot of blood was shed here, I have a feeling most of the damage was wrought after the deaths of the two men. Maybe I can examine the bodies before they begin to rot.’
Jolien nodded. ‘Hmmm, you said major organs were consumed with surgical precision.’
‘Sounds like a vampire. Yet I hope for the sake of both of us, it’s not. Perhaps only Zigi could take a vampire on with full strength. Regardless, the Veledred do not normally take on vampires.’
‘Why not?’
‘Vampires were mostly eradicated long before even the First Age of Fog. Some of them did live on in other lesser forms, called strix or strigoi. Yet they were branded outcasts from the very vampires they originated from. However, I once heard of a vampire being accepted into the Veledred long ago.’ Eymeg shook his head and rubbed his chin. ‘The likelihood that this was done by a vampire is really low.’
‘But what if it is a vampire we’re up against?’ Jolien bit her lip.
Eymeg shrugged. ‘All our silver blades were lost. We would have to find another way to kill it if it was. Fortunately, I don’t think it’s a vampire, at least not a high one,’ he said, standing up and scanning the gruesome scene. ‘It was a painful massacre. The two lovers that Lord Fastolph mentioned were murdered slowly, judging by the pools of blood on the floor—that aren’t fully dried, I might add. The creature must have enjoyed the kill, savouring the fear and begging. And the creature had complete control over them.’
Eymeg walked out of the house. Rikfried sat on a barrel outside and plucked the strings of his lute. He shook his head and cursed beneath his breath as his finger brushed a stray note.
Eymeg walked past him and around the corner of the house. A rosebush waved in the cool breeze of the Kingsoul. Blood painted some of its petals. Eymeg looked to the north, away from the Kingsoul. The sun would be up in a few hours, judging by the wa
ning darkness. The moon was beginning to drop in the sky. Eymeg squinted as he gazed at the early morning forest surrounding Floddenvale.
‘You said I would play an integral part in some scheme or whatnot. What exactly do you plan on me doing?’ asked Rikfried as he jumped off the barrel and walked up to Eymeg.
‘If you want to come with us to Aivaterra, you will do whatever I ask of you.’
‘That wasn’t exactly part of the conditions. I won’t do whatever you ask.’
‘Don’t worry, balladeer. You will do what you are good at. You will simply sing.’ Eymeg smiled.
Rikfried returned the smile jovially and twirled the red lute in the palm of his hands. ‘Well, that I can do—’
‘In that forest.’ Eymeg pointed north.
Rikfried swallowed hard. ‘And what is it that we are looking for exactly?’
‘A strix,’ said Eymeg. ‘I think.’
‘Oh great. Sounds hideous.’ Sweat had begun to collect around Rikfried’s eyebrows. Jolien walked up behind them, carrying the medallion in her hands. Eymeg furrowed his brow as she walked up.
‘It shivered,’ she said, staring at the golden claw on the face of the medallion. ‘In my hands.’
‘It did?’ asked Rikfried, mouth wide open. He walked over to her and touched the medallion. ‘When?’
‘Just now, while I was in the hut. An owl flew onto the windowsill and stared at me. It had purple eyes.’
‘Did it happen to speak to you?’ asked Eymeg. His hand wandered to the hilt of the broken halberd.
‘No, why would it?’ asked Jolien, a look of disbelief on her face.
Eymeg walked back into the hut. There was nothing there. Only the breeze brushed against the curtains in the window. A feather fell to the floor and then before his eyes vanished in a cloud of purple. He steeled his jaw and walked back out. ‘Did the owl say anything?’ he asked, scanning the tops of the trees for any sign of an avian.
‘Do you think it was the vampire?’ asked Rikfried.