by Nick Moseley
Everyone else was gone; Trev was the last. Richie was standing just inside the secret entrance, one hand on the inner handle. Trev pelted towards him, the sound of the doors’ destruction following on his heels.
As Trev approached, Richie gave him a wink and pulled the door closed. It slammed shut at the same moment the entrance doors crashed off their hinges and the shadows poured into the chapel.
Forty-One
Trev scrabbled at the wall but as he hadn’t seen Richie open it, he had no idea where the catch was. He pounded a fist against the panelling.
‘Open the door you bastard!’ he yelled, his voice cracking.
‘Problems, Trev?’ said Corbyn’s voice.
Trev turned. With his torch-wielding companions gone and his vapour weapons dead, the only illumination in the chapel emanated from the ranks of glowing eyes now facing him. A thin haze of smoke from the smouldering doors hung in the air, drifting through the green light. Tendrils of dark energy flowed into the room and across the floor.
The shadows had formed into two groups, standing motionless on either side of the ruined doors. The Corbyn-shadow stood between them, a general at the head of his troops. The creature’s blank face was incapable of expression, but Trev somehow knew it was smiling.
‘Locked myself out,’ he said.
‘Careless,’ the shadow replied. ‘I wouldn’t pin much hope on your friends coming back for you, either.’
‘They’re probably just joking with me. They’ll come back in a minute and we’ll all have a good laugh about it.’ As usual when he was scared or stressed, Trev’s mouth had taken on a life of its own.
‘I doubt it,’ said Corbyn. ‘That’s the thing with the self-preservation instinct. As soon as your friend starts interfering with your chances of survival, they’re suddenly not your friend anymore. It’s one of the reasons I’ve never bothered with them.’ It looked left and right. ‘Minions, though, are a different matter. I’ve always wanted minions.’
‘No shit,’ said Trev. ‘So, what can I do for you?’
He felt sick. Going down fighting was one thing, but being cornered, unarmed and alone, and abandoned by his friends to die… well, it really wasn’t how he’d wanted to bow out. He clutched the useless hilts of The Twins, squeezing them to stop his hands from shaking.
‘Actually, I wanted to say thanks,’ the Corbyn-shadow replied.
‘What?’
‘Well, if you’d have taken my offer back in Birmingham and let me go, I’d never have been brought here, that idiot girl wouldn’t have killed me, and I wouldn’t have become… this.’ The shadow spread its hands. ‘So I have to thank you.’
‘Um… I don’t suppose you’re grateful enough to let me walk out of here?’ Trev asked.
‘Ah, but you didn’t let me go, did you?’ said the shadow. ‘That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?’
‘Let’s not get into who apprehended who,’ Trev argued. ‘I’ll just slip away and nobody has to be any the wiser.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Trev puffed out a breath. ‘No, I didn’t either.’
‘It’s not so bad, Trev,’ the shadow said. ‘Being dead is less of a handicap than you’d think, and I’m a considerate boss.’
‘Happy to take your word for that,’ Trev replied.
‘You won’t have to,’ the creature said. Behind it, the ranks of shadows stirred and moved forwards. They spread out, some advancing down the centre aisle while the others went around the sides of the room. They didn’t charge Trev, instead closing in on him with exaggerated slowness.
He’s enjoying this, Trev thought. Dragging it out. All right then, I’ll just use this extra time to come up with a brilliant escape plan. That’ll show him.
His mind, though, remained blank on the subject of cunning escapes. He backed up until he hit the wood panelling of the hidden door. The shadows continued their advance, eyes bathing him in green light. He clenched his fists around his useless weapons and wished he had even a tiny bit of energy left; at least then he could have used The Twins’ calming influence to die with some dignity.
The Corbyn-shadow said nothing but it radiated smug self-satisfaction. It remained in the doorway, dark energy streaming into the chapel around it like a malevolent fog. Trev opened his mouth to offer a final plea and–
Wait.
Dark energy.
Energy.
Was it possible? He’d used negatively-charged energy before and it had worked, notwithstanding the fact that some of it had taken up residence in his body and was slowly driving him insane. But on the basis that his current list of options was a choice between dying sobbing and dying screaming, there didn’t seem much to lose in giving it a try.
He reached out. The dark energy brushed across his senses and he shuddered as it resonated with the knot of darkness he carried in his chest. It felt alien, malign, but also powerful. It seemed to want to be used. What the hell, Trev thought, and drew it into himself.
It was like being hit by a truck with a tactical nuclear weapon as a grille ornament. Trev’s body went into spasm; blood ran freely from his nose and ears; his stomach clenched so tightly it was in danger of digesting itself. The energy streamed into his system, filling him with darkness. It kept coming, and Trev fought to break the connection before his head exploded. With an effort he managed it. He fell to one knee, panting through bloodied lips.
The shadows had stopped moving. Their leader stared at Trev.
‘What did you just do?’ it asked, all smugness gone from its voice.
Trev rose to his feet. His head swivelled, taking in the ranks of opponents ranged against him. He set his feet and The Twins crackled into life in his hands. His eyes locked with those of the Corbyn-shadow and he bared his teeth in a feral smile, blood still streaming down his face.
‘Who’s first?’ he said.
The only reply he got was the shadows throwing themselves at him en masse.
The closest one lunged in and Trev swung his blades out from his chest in a scissoring motion. They caught the shadow across its midsection and simply tore the creature in half. It vanished in a cloud of blackness, the light from its eyes flaring brightly before winking out.
Once again the shadows stopped their advance. Trev positioned himself in a defensive stance with his back to the wall.
A berserker! Tyrfing said. Why did you not show this skill before?
Oh, he’s a sly one, this lad! chuckled Caladbolg. I’m looking forward to this!
The berserkers were a class of Sighted Norse warriors who deliberately drew in negatively-charged energy before battles, making them fight in a wild frenzy. They were feared on the battlefield but had a tendency to attack anything that moved, including their own comrades, friends and family. Fortunately for Trev, all his friends had already done a runner.
The shadows circled him without attacking. The fact that he’d just destroyed one of them was, understandably, making them cautious. Trev had been just as surprised as they had, but then he’d remembered the wolf-shadow rescuing him in the library. She’d been able to damage the Dravine-shadow, which had shown that Corbyn’s troops could be dispersed by the same energy that held them together. The same energy, in fact, that was now powering his weapons.
Splendid.
Trev felt the dark energy seeping deeper into his body. A cold, clinical anger settled over his thoughts. The shadows no longer frightened him. They were pests, vermin, waiting to be stamped out. Trev decided that he was best placed to do the stamping, and charged them.
He decapitated the first shadow before it could even react and split the next one from shoulder to hip. The others rushed him and he spun away from the middle of the group, striking out at the stragglers on the outside. The shadows followed him in a surge. Corbyn didn’t have any compunction about throwing his minions against Trev’s blades, aiming to bring him down with weight of numbers alone.
Trev slipped into one of the rows of pews to avoid being sur
rounded. He knew that having the ability to destroy the shadows didn’t make him invulnerable. He’d still die if one of the creatures managed to get hold of him. Corbyn knew that too, and his troops came swarming over the wooden seats with their arms outstretched. The Twins fizzed through the air and two more shadows were reduced to clouds of blackness.
Trev vaulted clear of the pews and sprinted up the side of the chapel, heading for the spot where he’d last seen the Corbyn-shadow. If he could dispose of the creatures’ leader it might end the battle at a stroke.
The energy thrummed through him. All the bumps, bruises and fatigue he’d accumulated over the course of the week had been swept away. His mind, body and weapons were all in sync. He felt like a machine. The only problem was the speed at which the energy was being used up. An extended fight would favour the shadows, so getting to grips with Corbyn was a priority.
He reached the corner and turned to run along the back of the rearmost row of pews. A small group of shadows had made their way up the centre aisle to intercept him. Trev destroyed the first two without breaking stride. The next pair split and tried to come at him from both sides at once. Trev feinted one way, then spun back the other, catching the left-hand shadow off guard with a quick slash from Tyrfing. In the same motion he reversed his grip on Caladbog and skewered the other shadow closing in behind him. Both creatures flared out of existence.
The Corbyn-shadow was gone from its spot in front of the ruined doors. Trev swore and looked around. The remaining shadows were gathered in a group between the pews, watching him. Corbyn had to be hiding among them. Trev was now so angry he could barely restrain himself from just lunging into the shadows in a frenzy. He stalked down the aisle, weapons at his side. None of the shadows came forwards to meet him.
It was almost as if they were waiting for something.
There was a sound of splintering wood. Trev faced the entrance and saw the Dravine-shadow forcing its way into the chapel past the remains of the doors. It had apparently recovered from whatever damage the wolf had inflicted, because it showed no sign of injury as it tore one of the broken doors off its hinges and threw it at Trev’s head.
Trev stood his ground and smashed through the heavy wood with both weapons. Fragments clattered past him, rattling off the stone floor. Three shadows burst out into the aisle in an attempt to grab Trev while he was distracted by flying carpentry. He saw them coming and dodged aside in time for them to be bowled over by the second door as it flew past.
The giant’s eyes blazed. It reached for the nearest pew and wrenched it free of the floor. The bolts that had been holding it down ricocheted off the ceiling. Hoisting the pew in both hands like a huge club, the Dravine-shadow stomped down the aisle towards Trev.
Trev’s head pounded. The negatively-charged energy he’d drawn in was being used up at a rapid rate, far more quickly than he’d expected. There was probably some inherent difference between the two types of energy, but Trev couldn’t spare any time to think about it. With the Dravine-shadow closing in on him and the others waiting to pounce on any mistake, he decided to just give in to the rage that was boiling through him. He charged.
If the huge creature was surprised, it didn’t show. The pew swung up and slammed back down again. Had Trev been underneath it he would’ve been turned into a dollop of meat paste, but he wasn’t. He danced aside, ignoring the spray of broken stone and wooden splinters, and slid in under the Dravine-shadow’s guard. Caladbolg struck the giant on its thigh, sending it to one knee. It whipped out an arm in a vicious backhand and Trev threw himself into a shoulder-roll to avoid it, dropping into the space between the wall and the rearmost pew.
He bounced back onto his feet and immediately had to duck as the remains of the Dravine-shadow’s makeshift club whistled over his head and shattered against the wall. Trev shook off the chunks of wood that rained down on him and jumped clear as the beast came after him barehanded. The injury he’d dealt the thing’s leg seemed to have healed almost immediately; Trev knew he was going to have to inflict far more damage to bring it down.
The shadow made a grab for him. Trev parried with Caladbolg, opening a gouge in the creature’s forearm. Darkness spurted from the wound and the clutching hand blurred as the limb lost its cohesion. The other hand had no such issues, though, and it crunched into the brickwork where Trev had been standing a moment before.
The other shadows were spreading around the outside of the room while Trev was distracted by the giant. If he was to have any chance he had to end the fight before he became surrounded. He avoided another swipe that knocked half the backrest off the nearest pew. The Dravine-shadow’s damaged hand was beginning to solidify as the energy refocused itself. It flexed its clawed black digits and took hold of the base of the pew. The bolts groaned and then came free.
Trev had a narrow window of opportunity. He leaned back, then drove energy into his legs and ran at the Dravine-shadow. The giant paused, its makeshift club only half off the floor and held at a steep angle. Trev leapt onto the pew, bounded a couple of steps along it, and vaulted off just as the creature let go of it to grab him. He sailed over its shoulder, pivoting in the air. As he fell, he struck out with both blades. They sliced into the giant’s back, driven all the way down through its body by the momentum of Trev’s fall. His feet hit the floor as the Dravine-shadow exploded in a flash of green light and a cloud of darkness.
Trev got up from his crouch and strode through the dissipating energy into the centre aisle. Broken wood and stone crunched beneath his feet. The other shadows had given up their attempt to surround him and were pressed against the outer walls, staying as far away from him as they could.
‘Corbyn!’ Trev yelled. ‘Where are you?’
He was almost out of energy. Even through his anger he was aware that if Corbyn sent all his remaining troops against him now he probably wouldn’t survive. The thought didn’t frighten him. He accepted it as a fact and then disregarded it. He still wanted to fight.
The shadows streamed towards the doorway, keeping close to the walls. ‘This is not a retreat, Trev,’ said Corbyn’s voice. It came from somewhere in the midst of the group. ‘You’ve released a few souls, but the energy always returns to me. It doesn’t matter how far you run. I’ll be back for you.’
Trev let out an inarticulate bellow and sprinted at the shadows. Before he was even halfway there they had all disappeared into the corridor. The green light faded away. Trev stumbled to a halt, panting. Caladbolg flickered and went out as its store of energy ran dry. Trev made his way back to the secret door while he still had Tyrfing for illumination, but as soon as he was there the Norse sword fizzled out as well.
Everything hit him at once. Fatigue, fear, his injuries. Pain spiked in his head and his stomach lurched. His legs gave way. He slid down the wall and passed out, alone in the darkness.
Forty-Two
He awoke to a green light shining on him. He panicked and groped for his fallen weapons but it was only the wolf-shadow, sitting on its haunches in the middle of the aisle and looking at him with its head on one side.
‘Hi,’ said Trev. He coughed and shifted position against the wall, and a lance of pain shot through his head. Close on its heels was a wave of nausea. He leaned to the side and retched, though nothing came up except a string of drool. He wiped at his blood-crusted mouth and shrugged at the wolf. ‘Sorry you’re not seeing me at my best.’
The creature simply sat and stared at him. There was an air of expectation about its patient gaze.
‘Oh,’ said Trev. ‘Um, thanks for saving me back there. Both times.’
The shadow inclined its head in acknowledgement.
‘Though not for trying to kill me the first time we met. What was that about?’
This time the head movement was somewhat sheepish.
‘That was a mistake, was it?’
A reluctant nod.
‘At least you’re honest, I suppose.’ Trev had a go at standing up and found it was tempor
arily beyond his capabilities. The wolf-shadow watched his efforts with interest. After a third unsuccessful attempt Trev surrendered to gravity and slumped back down on the floor. ‘A bit more rest can’t hurt,’ he said. ‘Go on then, why were you mistakenly trying to kill me?’
The creature stared at him.
‘This’d be much easier if you could talk,’ Trev said. ‘Right, let’s think about this. You thought Corbyn and I were working together somehow?’
Nod.
‘Why? Because I interviewed him?’
Nod.
‘And you thought I was doing a deal with him to get him out?’
Nod.
‘Right. But then he had a couple of goes at killing me, and you worked out that we weren’t best mates after all.’
Nod.
‘Well, that explains that. But it doesn’t explain why you hate Corbyn so much in the first pla–’ He stopped mid-sentence as the penny dropped in his head with the kind of echoing clang a bucket makes as it falls down a very deep well. ‘Oh. Oh.’
The shadow just sat and let him make the connections.
‘You’re Vicki, aren’t you?’ Trev said. ‘Miss Pine’s friend?’
Nod.
‘Bloody hell, this is beginning to make some sort of sense,’ Trev went on. ‘Corbyn’s brought in here as a prisoner and you think “There’s the arsehole who abducted me, getting his comeuppance at last”, but then this handsome chap shows up to interview him and you think “There’s some slick bastard who’s going to get him released” and you decide it’s better to kill us both than risk him going free. Close enough?’
The wolf-shadow – Vicki, Trev reminded himself – performed a lupine shrug and nodded again.
‘Miss Pine never gave up on you, you know,’ Trev said. He clawed his way up the panelled wall until he was more-or-less upright. ‘She’s been trying to track you down since you went missing.’
Vicki hung her head in a pose that looked utterly mournful.