by Rob J. Hayes
It was quite a surprise, at least to the others, when we found the first of the faces carved into the walls. From that point on, they were a regular thing, a new face every dozen paces or so, almost terran, but not. Some of the soldiers were unnerved, I heard at least one talk of going back. I snapped at him for silence and told them they were just carvings, no matter how lifelike they might look. Of course, I knew it wasn't entirely true. With Ssserakis' sight I could see further than any of the others, and with that sight I could see the faces had their eyes closed, at least until we drew close. Just out of range of the torchlight, their eyes snapped open, and seemed positioned in just such a way that they were staring at us no matter where we stood. The others didn't need to know, so I did not tell them. But I was certain that once the city was fully explored, I would have every one of the faces chiselled out of the walls.
"Some sort of Geomancy?" I whispered to Ssserakis.
The horror laughed. Far older than magic. Not everything dies as you know it, Eskara. Some things live forever in one way or another. The horror had the truth of it. The faces were alive, yet not living. A true oddity of the world.
For hours we searched that city, and even then, we only covered a tiny section of it. On the fourth level down from the surface, we found bodies. One or two at first, but soon more. They were small things with grey flesh and tails. Heads with no ears. Imps. Through my innate Necromancy I could tell they were freshly dead, no more than a few days. Some were eviscerated, others showed clear signs of being gnawed upon. One thing was abundantly clear to me: In raising the city, I had broken it apart in many places. The barriers the imps had built to block off the Damned and protect themselves were broken. There was a war happening beneath our feet, one the imps could not hope to win.
Another floor down and new noises started echoing along the tunnels toward us. Our cartographer was making marks on a nearby wall when she heard it, a shrill scream barely audible to us. She backed up, placing herself in the centre of our little group. We heard it again, louder this time, maybe closer. I could not tell which direction it came from, sound echoing underground is often distorted that way, confusing our senses. And terran hearing is far from perfect. We are a people who rely on our eyes most of all, and the tahren do like to mock us for it. Horralain moved in close and I stepped away, growling at him not to crowd me. There was something familiar in the scream, a noise I recognised but had not heard in a long time. That knowledge gnawed at me, recognition so close yet just out of reach.
Would you like a hint? That Ssserakis recognised the noise was already a hint.
When it came again, I realised it was no scream. It was a howl. Our little group closed ranks, soldiers watching each other's backs, weapons raised and ready. The noise came again louder, closer. Hunters moving in for the kill. We were prey. I do not like being prey.
"We should go back to the stairs," said the cartographer in a shrill voice that bordered on the edge of panic.
Running is for prey. A true predator lays a trap and forces the prey into it. I couldn't help but feel we were already neck deep in the trap.
"Even the deadliest of predators is prey to something deadlier." The words were meant for myself and my horror, but the others heard them. Whether they took as them as condemnation that we were all fucked, or as reassuring that we were mightier than whatever was coming for us, I don't know. Certainly, none of us broke and ran. That was good, we terrans are followers at heart, pack animals clinging to our herds. If just one of us had broken and run, the rest would almost certainly have followed. Courage held up by bravado and company and nothing else.
The howl came again, so loud it hurt my ears. The others, too, found the noise painful, and I could see how close panic was to setting in and taking control. I could feel the fear, and it was delicious. "We used to hear stories down in the Pit, Horralain," I said. "That you had once wrestled a Khark Hound. Were they true?"
Horralain looked pained, as though suddenly being the centre of attention hurt him. "No." The word slid slowly from his mouth. "I hit it with a rock while the others went at it with picks and shovels."
I smiled at him and then turned it on the others. "A rock and some picks. And we have a bloody great hammer and a thicket of swords. I think we can take a Khark Hound, no problem." Laughter, even forced, can do much to bolster courage. A few chuckles rolled around, half-hearted at best, and the fear lessened a little, though not enough. I couldn't blame them, not really, I knew what we were up against.
When I noticed them for the first time, it was at the furthest edge of what I could see, and even then, they were little more than indistinct shapes waiting out in the gloom. I don't know how long they had been there, watching us, but Khark Hounds have a savage intelligence to them. They are not quite the mindless beasts they appear. There were two of them and they filled the tunnel. Two great slavering maws, and eight eyes all trained on us. Ears twitched our way and backward, keeping track of many sounds all at once. They were waiting. They were hunting us.
"The howling stopped," one of the soldiers said. "Have they gone?" Fear often makes us cling to vain hopes.
"No. They're here. Watching us," I said. Khark Hounds are voracious hunters, moving in packs and tracking prey over long distances. They have no noses, and their faces end in a squat muzzle bursting with jagged-edged teeth, but their hearing and eyesight is unmatched in either Ovaeris or Sevoari. Like all creatures of the Other World, they are a nightmare given savage form; a nightmare of the perfect hunter maybe.
Minions and beasts. I kept them as pets, trained to hunt down the places where Norvet Meruun's tendrils spread.
"Any suggestions on how best to fight them?" I asked quietly.
Fight them? I dominated them.
"Helpful."
"Who are you talking to?" asked one of the soldiers, an older man with dark, wrinkled skin.
Horralain grunted. I'm not sure if the exclamation was meant for me or the soldier, but it certainly put a stop to people asking about my conversations with myself.
I'd never actually fought a Khark Hound before. I'd summoned many in my time, using them to great effect harrying the Terrelan army as it advanced upon Vernan, but summoning a monster, and fighting against one are two different things. I remembered the tactics I had seen soldiers employ against my own summoned creatures, spear and bows for the most part, and acceptable casualties. Losing even a single member of my team seemed unacceptable to me. That is the problem when you start thinking about soldiers as people, they are much more difficult to send to their deaths. One of many reasons I made for a terrible general.
The tunnel was maybe ten feet high and almost twice that wide. A large space, but we would struggle to surround an attacking pack of hounds. I was still considering options when our time ran out. An ear-splitting howl ripped the air to pieces and with Ssserakis' black and white sight, I could see the monsters in front of us leap into a loping run. The howl was answered, a second group I couldn't see. I realised then that we were surrounded. I let my Sourceblade puff out of existence and raised my right hand, forming a kinetic shield that blocked the tunnel in front of me almost entirely.
"I'll hold this side. Deal with the ones behind us!" I shouted.
"They're behind us?" The cartographer's panic spread instantly, and my group of soldiers became a milling chaotic jumble of steel, flesh, and fear. They barely had time to turn before the monsters reached us.
Everything happened at once. Two Khark Hounds hit my kinetic shield with all the force of two running monsters, each weighing maybe ten times what I did. A kinetic shield disperses the energy striking it as best it can, but the force must go somewhere. I would have been barrelled over in an instant if not for Horralain at my back, steadying me with his own considerable weight. The hounds rebounded, momentarily dazed by the arrested momentum. Their confusion didn't last. A terran might have stepped back, considered the problem and given me respite from the onslaught. But Khark Hounds do not relent, they threw t
hemselves at me again and again, scrabbling claws at my shield, a frantic attempt to find any way past my defences. Behind me, the first of my soldiers died. They had no shield to hide behind and one of the hounds leapt forward, grabbed a soldier by his sword arm and wrenched him off his feet, dragging him away into the darkness where the monsters behind us could tear at him without intervention. None of his comrades dared go after him. They formed into a tight rank of steel pointed into the dark, hoping it would make a difference. Fools.
Fear takes many forms. Through Ssserakis, I have tasted them all. Terror is an interesting one. It was like force feeding Ssserakis; so much strength so quickly it seeped out into me. New strength flooded my limbs, giving me confidence. My cloak dissolved and Ssserakis sent shadowy spikes into the stone beneath my feet, anchoring us against the onslaught tearing at my shield.
"Help the others," I growled the words at Horralain, waving my stone arm at him. He hesitated a moment, his jaw working back and forth as he tried to decide whether to follow my orders or not. Eventually he hefted his hammer and strode off to meet the attack coming from behind me.
The two hounds in front were still scrabbling at my shield. They resemble wolves in many ways, though far larger and more terrifying. Their shoulders reach as tall as a fully-grown man, and that meant they towered over my smaller height. Each beast had a mouth full of teeth, and four eyes set two to either side of its head, all filled with savage malice. Ears on top of their heads swivelled back and forth in a constant motion. The beasts are often called Razorbacks, and it's a name that is well earned. Bony shards, each sharp as a blade, breached the skin of the monsters all along their backs, forming a natural armour and weapon both. I could see them both so clearly as they tore at my shield, snarling and snapping, desperate to get through. It would not take much for them to tear me apart, and in truth there was little keeping them from doing just that.
I could hear the fight behind me, and it did not sound as though it was going well. The cartographer was screaming, high-pitched and incessant. Soldiers were shouting, mostly impotent threats to bolster courage. Horralain was grunting with some effort. Whether we were winning or losing, I couldn't help. All I could do was hold back the two monsters trying to tear us apart, certain in the knowledge that if we were attacked from both sides at once, we would all die.
Did I mention the intelligence of Khark Hounds? It did not take them long to find the edges of my shield. I could not contour it to the tunnel's shape exactly, and once they found those edges, I knew it would soon fall. Rather than let them tear my shield from my hands, I acted. I dropped the shield and released a pulse of kinetic energy at the same time. Behind me, the cartographer was caught in the blast and thrown into the backs of the soldiers. In front of me, the hounds took the blast head on. The first had been up on its hind legs, scrabbling at the top edge of my shield, and the blast knocked it over and sent it sprawling. The second of the monsters had been on all four legs and weathered the pulse easily, powerful claws gouging into the stone beneath it. I may have ruffled its fur and bloodied its snout, but neither was enough to stop a Khark Hound. Neither was enough to even faze the beast.
I barely had time to react as the monster threw itself on me, but I just about managed to throw my left arm in its way. It was not really conscious thought that made me do it, but rather a need to protect myself. In time of crisis, we terrans usually put our arms in harm's way before the rest of us. Teeth locked around my stone arm, jaws clamping down so hard flesh and bone would have snapped. But my petrified arm did not. Of course, having a stone arm didn't really save me. Before I could think of striking back, I was wrenched off my feet and thrown side to side as the Khark Hound ragged me about like a child.
What happened next is a blur. Perhaps you have a seen a dog savage a rabbit or other small animal? Now imagine you are that animal. I was whipped side to side so quickly my eyes could not keep up. I was smashed against the wall and the floor, and my shoulder wrenched from its socket. A dislocated shoulder is pain stacked on top of pain, but I couldn't even scream, such was the ferocity of the attack. I might even have blacked out for a moment or two, it's hard to say. For all my skill and power, I was beaten so soundly by a couple of monsters I learned to summon when I was ten years old. There is little like a sound beating to put life in perspective.
Horralain saved my life. The big thug charged the Khark Hound, hammer held high. He couldn't swing it, of course, not while the monster held me in its jaws, but Horralain is a big man and big men are considered threats even by monsters. The hound considered me dead, or close enough to it that I was no longer a threat. It tossed me aside and I collided with the tunnel wall, collapsing into a broken heap, barely able to get a coherent thought to stick in my head.
In blurred relief, I saw my stone hand in front of me. I was pushed up against the wall, where it sloped outward, half collapsed to the side and feeling boneless. Yet I could see the fingers of my stone hand slowly clenching and unclenching. They stopped as I blinked away the fuzzy confusion, and when I pulled my arm close the fingers were still once more. The hand and the rest of my forearm was blessedly free of pain, but my shoulder felt like fire under the skin. My arm slumped at an odd angle and though I could just about move it, the pain that brought on was dizzying. At that moment I wished I hadn't argued against Hardt coming along
What are you doing?
"I have to fight." The words slurred from my mouth.
Idiot. Don't fight these creatures, they are nothing to us. Dominate them.
"I…"
We are not prey, Eskara!
Horralain was still fighting, swinging Shatter and then bringing the haft up to guard against reply. I watched groggily as one of the Khark Hounds locked teeth around the hammer's haft and ripped it from Horralain's hands. As strong as the big man was, there was no matching strength against a monster of such size. The other hound was on its feet again, stalking, making ready to pounce on him. Behind us, another soldier was down, bleeding everywhere. The other soldiers were gathered close, holding onto each other for protection and courage both. The cartographer was curled into a ball against the tunnel wall, holding her knees and shaking with each great sob she let out, her precious map lying forgotten before her.
I watched as both Khark Hounds went in for the kill. Horralain acted faster than I would have thought possible, punching the first of the monsters where its snout should have been, and then stepping back from the other and reaching out, somehow gripping hold of its muzzle and forcing its jaws shut. It was a losing battle. No matter what the rumours down in the Pit said about him, no man could wrestle a Khark Hound and live. Horralain was facing off against two, and all to protect me.
Three times Horralain tried to kill me. Even to this day I still bare the odd croak in my voice from that first attempt, some damage he did to my throat that has never fully repaired. But then, since I had recruited him, I could count as many times that he had saved my life. He was a savage brute with no moral compass save for the one I gave him, yet he had thrown himself into the fight against these monsters to save me and to save those with me. He'd followed me into battle against a Djinn, a creature that was all but a god. He'd even tried his hand against the Iron Legion for my sake. I couldn't just watch him die, torn to pieces by monsters. At the very least, I had to try something.
Pushing away from the wall, I slipped around Horralain and stood against the first Khark Hound as it crouched to pounce. Two of its malevolent eyes fixed on me, the other two keeping Horralain in focus. Blood dripped from its teeth, and the growl that rumbled from its throat very nearly had me pissing myself. Just because I was carrying the embodiment of fear inside of me, did not mean I couldn't wet myself in pure terror.
"STOP!" The word tore its way free from me in a scream. I reached for the Impomancy Source I carried inside, but pain has a way of shattering concentration and I could not draw on any of my Sources.
The Khark Hounds stopped. The beast that had been about to p
ounce straightened up to its full height and took a single step forward. Its face drew so close to mine I could no longer focus on it. The smell was oddly pleasant, a sweet odour somehow masking the gore on its muzzle. A furious growl started somewhere in the pit of that creature and rumbled out through its clenched teeth. I was certain I was about to die. More certain than I have ever been. This beast was no terran to be cowed by my flashing eyes and bravado, it was a nightmare given terrible form. But then, so were we.
Shadowy wings unfurled behind me. The darkness beneath my feet boiled and rose up in plumes like black fire. The shadow passed over my skin, mottling it in twisting patterns. Ssserakis made me look like a lord of Sevoari, and the hounds responded.
The first of the monsters, the one staring at me, took a single step backward, claws scraping across stone. Then it bowed its head, exposing the back of its neck to me. A few moments later and the other Khark Hound broke away from Horralain and copied the actions of the first. I heard frightened squeaks of alarm behind me, and a few terrified threats as another of the beasts skirted the soldiers and approached us, also bowing its head.
Horralain moved slowly, picking up Shatter from the ground and hefting it, preparing to strike. I held up my left hand, the only part of me the shadows didn't touch, and shook my head at the big man. The Khark Hounds were no longer a threat. They were mine now.
The others weren't happy that I kept the Khark Hounds, they had killed three soldiers in total, and very nearly did the same with the rest of us. I was advised to kill them and end their savage existence. I ignored that advice. Three Khark Hounds were worth more than seven soldiers. I didn't consider the morale issue. Soldiers talk, rumours spread, my hounds were never well liked, and I earned quite a bit of discontent from my new subjects by sparing them.
