Midnight Monster Club

by Gerhard Gehrke

  One of the fel next to Digger began sobbing.

  A few in the crowd peered behind the curtain, but a guard shooed them away.

  “No previews. Go further down the main corridor. Then take the stairs to the left. And keep your tickets out.”

  Most wore pink tags pinned to their collars or sleeves. As the last of the crowd left, someone ran down the ramp, pushing past a pair of guards.

  “Preview is over!” one of the guards said. “Hey!”

  Other soldiers intercepted the lone figure and a terse discussion followed. Then one of the men pointed towards Digger’s cage.

  “He’s in there,” a guard said. “He’s up for the first round.”

  Lord Angel threw the curtain open. “Remember me?”

  Digger backed up. Lord Angel’s nose had been straightened but both his eyes were dark and his face was swollen. He could only hope the nobleman would once again get close.

  “You look like you lost a fight,” Digger said.

  Angel ignored the comment. “I’ve come to make you a deal.”

  “You see where I am. What do you have that I could want?”

  “You’re part of my aunt’s game. I can’t stop that now. But think of your friends.”

  “How do I know they’re not dead?”

  “Because I have the cook locked away in the stockade. That can change. That is, unless you don’t care about him. But I have a suspicion you do. And it’s only a matter of time before I find this ogre of yours and Isabel. I can call off the hunt.”

  “You got your watch back. Or at least the queen got it back.”

  Angel looked at the nearest guard, who took a few steps away.

  “There was something else,” Angel whispered. “Something which can save your friends if you just tell me where it is. It’s a piece of paper with some notes. Tell me what rubbish heap you threw it in. That’s it. You save three lives.”

  “What’s so important about that piece of paper?”

  Angel licked his lips. “Nothing. Not to you or anyone else. Just me.”

  “So plans for the expansion of the catacombs wouldn’t interest the queen’s subjects?”

  A flicker of recognition crossed the nobleman’s face. “You have it?”

  “If I do, then it seems you’ll be able to get it from my corpse soon enough. If it’s of no consequence, then I’m sure you can wait until then to go through my pockets. But you coming down here now means there’s something on that page you want to keep for yourself. Get me out of here. Release the cook from the stockade. Put us both on a boat, and I’ll make sure you get your page back.”

  Angel smiled but his eyes remained hard. “That’s not going to happen. Tell me where it is. Save your friends grief and pain. Or, as you say, I’ll find out soon enough whether any of you have it.”

  “Not if we put it somewhere where it can be discovered.”

  “True. But while your death is imminent, I’ll drag it out for the chef. Once I catch Isabel, I’ll be sure she lingers for weeks. I’m sure one of them will tell me to relieve their suffering.”

  Digger leaped forward, his arms reaching for Angel’s face. But Angel deftly stepped back and chuckled.

  “So you do care, fel. Under your brave face, you’re as scared as these other wretches. Maybe not for yourself, but for your friends. It will please me to no end to inform them that you died telling me one of them has what I’m looking for.”

  Up the ramp, a series of bells rang.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Angel,” the guard said. “It’s time to clear out. It’s about to begin.”

  The guard left the curtain open and escorted Angel down the hall where the other spectators had vanished.

  Digger clenched his jaw until his teeth hurt. The piece of paper with the catacomb plans was still in his pocket. If Digger died, Angel would reclaim it. It was only a matter of time before the nobleman discovered Isabel was also a prisoner in the stockade. If Monty was still alive, Digger had no doubts that Angel would carry through with his threat even if he got the page back.

  It was at that moment Digger decided he needed to survive.

  Chapter Thirty

  “WELCOME, ONE AND ALL,” a voice from the gallery boomed. The clear, crisp words cut through the din and the crowd went silent. “I say again, welcome to the newest, greatest season of catacombs.”

  Applause and cheers broke out.

  “Queen Claudia the Second has once again prepared a feast for our eyes, thrills for our appetites, and an experience for your memories. A few words for your safety. Keep away from the bars. The catacomb games are a dangerous place, and projectiles and monsters have occasionally hurt those who have leaned in too close. What you are about to experience is not for the fainthearted. There will be violence, but then again, all of you probably know this.”

  The crowd chuckled.

  “This afternoon is our preliminary first round. It will give the contestants full flavor of what awaits them tonight, if they don’t bow out. It will also give us, the audience, the opportunity to see the true mettle of those who would dare enter the nymph’s lair.

  “For below is no castle basement or dungeon, but the home of a most dangerous sea spirit. With her song and her touch, she lures young purebloods away to their doom. Her pit is home to monsters and torments. Only a brave few dare enter. And why?

  “Adventure? A chance to see this beautiful creature of legend with their own eyes? Or is it her treasure? What tempts these warriors to their greatest challenge is their heart, is it not? But only the truest of spirits will persevere.”

  “Get on with it,” someone yelled.

  The game caller wasn’t fazed. “What weapons will work here? What perils lie ahead? For our first round, a group of fearless souls pass along a beach where the echoes of the nymph’s song linger in the rocks and cliffs of her haunted isle. They discover an entryway concealed in washed-up seaweed. A mouth of a giant frozen in stone submerged in the sand.”

  The sunlight was obscured, throwing the hallway beyond Digger’s cage into shadow. Digger pressed against the bars to make out anything in the dark. A few minutes passed. Then he heard shuffling and several footsteps coming his way. A nervous laugh. A light began to shine until the bottom of the ramp was once again illuminated.

  A group of ten figures appeared carrying lanterns.

  They wore all manner of gear, from simple tunics to full metal chest pieces. At least one was a woman. They all held weapons, and Digger guessed they were all real.

  From above, the game caller said, “But little did our adventurers suspect that even the tiniest of sand crabs would signal their arrival to their nymph mistress. These would also be her first line of defense.”

  A creak of ropes sounded from above. A cascade of hundreds of tiny objects fell on the contestants. They began screaming and swatting at their clothes. Some tore off helmets to swat away whatever was covering them. One of the ten let out a shriek and ran back up the ramp.

  The spectators in the gallery roared in delight.

  “Psst.”

  The whisper came from the back of the cage. Something was shoved at Digger and he grabbed it. At first he thought it was a piece of wood, but it had the distinct shape of an enormous bone. The other fel were likewise presented similar weapons.

  “I’m opening your cage,” the voice hissed. “Anyone who doesn’t step out gets skewered. Bit of advice? Wait for the signal. Go for one of their tokens. Might save your skin.”

  The fel who had been sobbing finally stopped. No one said a word or made a sound.

  Meanwhile, one of the contestants was pulling his shirt back on after having shaken it out. It was then that Digger realized the man was wearing a token clipped to his belt. Each of the other contestants had one too, on either their helmet or armor.

  “Crabs.” The man pulling his shirt on laughed. “It’s just a bunch of tiny crabs. Pick up your weapons, guys. This place will have to do better than that.”

  As if he had
been waiting for the contestants to compose themselves, the game caller announced, “With bravado, the remaining nine steel themselves up. Fear only claimed one, who is now disqualified. But what other threats await?”

  From down in the darkness a chorus of bellows erupted. Men’s voices, fel perhaps. Someone was putting on a display that gave the nine contestants renewed pause.

  A soft metal squeak sounded and the curtain was pulled away. The cage door was loose. The clamor held the contestants’ attention. They weren’t looking at the cage.

  “That’s your signal,” the voice whispered.

  Digger adjusted his grip on the bone club. It had heft and felt solid but unwieldy.

  “But the nymph had other defenders,” the game caller shouted. “Suitors. Sailors who she had seduced to dive from their ships, who had survived the swim through treacherous seas to woo her. These smitten lost souls would do anything for their mistress even as she corrupted their flesh. Mad with lust, she sends them out armed with whale bones to kill those who would pillage her sanctuary.”

  The shouting down the hallway sounded like it was getting louder. Digger saw this as an opportunity. The ramp was right behind the nine contestants. He could make a break for it. But surely there were guards ready for just such a violation of the game rules. They wanted them to fight.

  Digger stepped from the cage. The others followed.

  It was the weeping fel who attacked first. He let out a mad cry and launched himself at the group.

  “Raaah!” Digger screamed as he ran at one of the contestants. His overhead swing caught a man on the shoulder. The man cried out in agony and dropped his lantern, which popped on the ground. The flame went out. Digger didn’t hesitate but swung again, smashing another across the side of the head.

  The other two fel were slow to press the attack. The contestants easily parried with their swords.

  Meanwhile the weeping fel had taken down two people. He was laughing wildly when he was caught under the ribs with the thrust of a rapier. He crumpled to the floor.

  Digger blocked an incoming blade and ducked. When he swiped his club, his opponent retreated. It gave him a moment to catch his breath. From further down the entryway the shouts of his fellow monsters had faded. Had it merely been a distraction? He realized the game wouldn’t stack the odds too highly against its contestants.

  One man stopped to yank the token from the dying fel’s collar.

  The two other fel were surrounded and starting to tire.

  The spectators above were cheering, but the sound was muted. Digger could only see the humans in front of him brandishing their weapons. One had a short stabbing spear. He jabbed at Digger. Digger’s own massive bone club threw him off-balance every time he moved to block a blow. The man was toying with him as another with a longsword moved around Digger’s flank.

  “Piss off, his token’s mine,” the spear wielder said.

  The swordsman scoffed. “First come, first serve.”

  Not waiting for either of them, Digger brought his club down on the spearman’s foot. The crunch of bone was satisfying, but his club cracked and was starting to split. The spearman hobbled back as he cried out.

  The swordsman sliced the air as Digger stumbled away. He fell over one of the downed contestants.

  A gold token sparkled on a necklace.

  But there was no time to retrieve it. The swordsman pressed his attack and Digger barely avoided the blade as he picked up a dropped rapier. He wasn’t trained with the fiddly light weapon, and his opponent appeared to know it, based on the man’s growing smile. The enemy’s sword jabbed repeatedly at him. As quick as Digger could try to block or parry, the man would smack Digger’s sword aside and slash at him.

  The blade caught Digger’s cheek.

  The crowd in the gallery began clapping and hooting.

  Digger chopped at air. Missed. The man was too quick.

  He heard another of the fel cry out but didn’t dare take his attention off his opponent. Digger tore his shirt off and bundled it in one hand. The swordsman licked his lips as he followed Digger into shadow. Digger fought to calm himself. Tried to probe his opponent’s defenses. The man appeared to know what Digger was thinking and his sword slapped Digger’s weapon almost hard enough to knock it from his grip. A few more steps and he would be boxed into the cage.

  “Stay in the entry chamber,” a voice from the wings hissed.

  The crowd no doubt wanted to see what was happening. Someone from above lit a nearby sconce torch with a long pole lighter. The spectators gasped and murmured.

  The new light illuminated one of the dropped clubs. Digger kicked it up towards the swordsman. As the man easily knocked it away, Digger charged. He caught the edge of the longsword with his shirt-wrapped hand and knocked the man in the head with the pommel of the rapier. The man grunted and faltered.

  Digger didn’t hesitate. He lunged and tackled the man and began to pound his head against the stone floor.

  A tepid cheer went up from a few in the gallery but there were more cries of shock. The swordsman had gone limp. Digger tore the token and necklace free.

  He grabbed the heavier longsword. Tested its heft. He had trained with longswords as one of the duke’s rangers. It suited him fine, and he turned to face the others.

  Only two of the pureblood contestants remained standing. A pair of others leaned on the wall nursing wounds. The last of Digger’s fellow monsters had somehow gotten lucky, but he was now crawling towards the ramp. The two were following him and jabbing their rapiers at the ground, making him flinch.

  Digger marched towards them. “Hey!”

  He could only imagine how he looked between his makeup, his bleeding cheek, and however much spattered blood now marked his body.

  “This token is for him.”

  He flipped the token towards the fel.

  “He’s free. I’m fair game.”

  The two men turned, ready to fight.

  “Kill him!” a voice from above shouted.

  Digger stood perched on the balls of his feet and ready to strike the first man who came in range. From what he had seen, this group had been taught a showy version of swordsmanship. He was banking on them making the first mistake. But even still, his odds against two opponents were slim at best. At least he’d take one of them out before dying.

  He was surprised when both ran up the ramp.

  “Two more disqualifications!” the game caller announced.

  The spearman with the crushed foot limped past, as did two more. The remaining contestants weren’t moving. Neither were the other fel. He went from man to man and collected tokens.

  A single bell chimed.

  “We have a monster victory! The entry to the nymph’s grotto has been defended! What an upset! But lo, Her Majesty’s champions and new treasure seekers approach! What fresh challenges await? Buy your tickets for this evening’s next round of catacombs, my dear friends. You won’t want to miss it.”

  The crowd murmured and there was a smattering of applause. This was clearly not the result most had expected. No doubt few had bet on a monster victory so early in the games.

  Digger crouched to assist the surviving fel.

  A doorway next to the cage opened. Attendants moved into the chamber.

  Digger stood to face them but then turned his attention to the gallery. “Wait!”

  His shout caught everyone’s attention. He showed his handful of tokens and nodded towards the fel at his feet. “I’ve won his freedom. I also want to buy free some of my friends. Two of them are being held in the stockade.”

  “That’s not in the rules,” the invisible game caller said.

  “Then change them.”

  “These are the queen’s games. She sets the terms of play. You can buy your freedom and his. You can also give your tokens away or save them. Then you can purchase a prize.”

  “I don’t want your damn prizes.” He doled out two tokens and placed one on each of the other wounded fel. He co
uld only hope they’d survive. “They’re free. Get them a doctor.”

  “That’s three monsters who have purchased immunity and release. And what of your own freedom?”

  “Freedom is overrated.” He then hefted his sword and went to the closest wounded human. He smashed the sword down, splitting the man’s skull.

  The crowd cried out in horror. Before they could finish reacting he moved to the next man and did the same. A third died before the game attendants rushed to save the last one and pulled him away. Digger unceremoniously cleaned off his weapon on one of the corpses. He pocketed the remaining tokens.

  “I think I’ll stick around. I’m sure this earns me another death sentence. If Lord Angel is up there, tell him I’ll be down here waiting.” He fished the page of notes from his pocket. “Oh, and tell him I have what he’s looking for.”

  The vocal spectator cackled. “A challenge! Brilliant!”

  Digger almost skewered the game attendant who tried to take his sword.

  An older fel in bright clothes interceded. “Put the weapon down, friend. It’s over. You won. But for now you have to come with me. I’ll get you cleaned and stitched up. Because in a few hours you’re coming back for the next round, like you asked.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Queen Claudia asked.

  Angel had tried to slink away from the remaining cluster of nobles mingling with his aunt in the gallery above the catacombs. The opening round had concluded and it had been a disaster. The gravedigger had survived. He also had the page and had announced it to the world.

  Angel licked his upper lip. “I’m not feeling well, Aunt Claudia. A headache. Please excuse me.”

  She strode towards him, a flute of sparkling wine in hand. “Poor boy. Perhaps you’ll find some rest in your room. A nap is always curative, in my experience.” She leaned in close. “Does our brave victor have what I think he has?”

  “Yes. I’m going down to his cell and taking it from him.”

  “Hmm. You’ll do no such thing.”