by Eric Ugland
“Barely know him, but you’ve got a dossier on him.”
“I do not,” she said, “I merely pay attention when people speak about each other. People appreciate when you listen.”
“I listen.”
“You gaze into the distance. Why do you ask about Batistin?”
“He left Coggeshall.”
“He did what? When?”
“A few days ago.”
“That seems,” she started, then frowned, then shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose it is a bit odd, but not that far out of the realm of possibility.”
“Does he have a family farm down south?”
“I’m afraid I left that out of my dossier. Next name?”
I held the list out again.
“Johan Britz,” she said. “He is a baker.”
“Why not start with the other list?” Ragnar asked.
“What are these lists?” she asked.
“One is a list of people who left Coggeshall, and the other is the list of the people who told us the first list left.”
“Why are you looking into it?”
“The duke thinks there’s something hinky going on.”
“I didn’t use the word hinky,” I said.
“But it fits so well,” Ragnar replied.
“I take it you disagree?” Eliza asked.
“I’m not allowed to disagree.”
“Oh nonsense,” Eliza said, arching an eyebrow. “You think your role is to complain and disagree.”
“Hey—” Ragnar started.
“She’s got you there,” I said. “I’m just running things down that are out of the ordinary when it comes to people missing.”
“I recognize a few names from the missing people list,” Eliza said, all business. “But at least three of them I knew were leaving.”
“Do you know their reasons?” I asked.
“I don’t recall them. I mean, not off-hand. I’m sure I would remember if pressed, but nothing seemed out of character. There are many people who like to spend this night with their family. In a smaller space. You can—”
I heard something, and held up a hand.
“What was that?” I asked.
Another scream, coming from the direction of the hallway.
“Hold those thoughts,” I said, and sprinted towards danger.
62
I raced down the hall, watching people rush out of my way as my thundering steps echoed off the stones.
I slid around a corner and into the stairwell. I could hear cries of terror from above.
“Get the Legion,” I snapped at Ragnar.
“On it,” he said, sliding down the banister to get around a crush of people racing down.
I pushed my way up the first flight.
“Go carefully,” I shouted, “and clear the middle.”
My bellow worked, and an aisle formed between the crowds. I sprinted up, taking the steps four at a time.
Up to the fifth, sixth, seventh floor. On the eighth floor I ran into what I was looking for: a fiend.
“Fuck,” I said involuntarily when I spotted the nightmare creature on the landing between the eighth and ninth floors.
It had six long, spindly legs that seemed way too thin to support its massive, goopy body. It looked insect-like, with a long distended semi-translucent abdomen that was full of people stuck in a pale green goo. The thorax was shiny red, almost candy-apple in color, and somehow metallic. Its head was almost like the torso of a human, except with the proportions a bit off. And it had tentacles instead of arms. A single giant eye inspected me from the top of the torso-head, and a mouth that opened vertically along the torso was oozing pale green goo. It moved fast, right at me, its tentacles extended in excitement. It didn’t seem to care I was the only thing who wasn’t running away.
Normally in this moment I’d toss out some quip, a one-liner to make sure my opponent knew I wasn’t afraid. Because I wasn’t. Disgusted, yes. But I had no time to be pithy — I had to jump back out of the way of the waggling tentacles.
They were thin, almost whip like, and ended in wicked-looking barbs.
Then the creature flexed, and a ripple of nasty thorns erupted all the way down the tentacles.
“Mine,” the fiend snarled, giving me an excellent view of his teeth. They seemed folded down, with the pointy bits toward the throat.
Easy to go down, impossible to come back up.
The tentacles lashed out again. I ducked under one, only to find the other one wrapping around my legs. The barbs thunked into my flesh with a burning pain.
I gritted my teeth and grabbed the tentacle.
The fiend pulled hard, ripping my feet right out from under me, then got his other tentacle around my midsection. I managed to keep my arms free, but paid the price when the next barb hit my back, sinking deep inside. My lung ached, and I couldn’t get a full breath in. No fun like a punctured lung, amiright?
Its tentacles flexed, more spiky bits went in, and then it pulled me towards its widening maw, pale green goo dripping like nightmare saliva. Except more like snot.
As it shoved me in, I shot my hand out and grabbed the creature’s lip. I focused my whole being on that grip. I was not about to let go and take a snot bath inside the creature.
The fiend pushed, and I held on with my one hand. I looked for another thing to grab, seeing what I might be able to—
Something red flashed across my vision, a bit of a blur
I arched my back, ignoring the pain, and saw a fat little thing with wings and a tail flitting about. It had a round head with inwardly curving horns. Big, shiny black eyes. And an oversized mouth full of tiny piercing teeth, open wide and laughing.
“Eat ‘im!” the fat little creature said between raucous laughter. “Eat ‘im right up!!”
I’ve never been a big fan of anyone laughing at other people’s pain. I got a little leverage with one leg by shoving my foot between two needle teeth, and I pushed. Hard.
My body surged out from the mouth, and I grabbed the stupid flying fucker from the air by the tail.
It squawked in surprise.
Now I had a weapon.
I swung the little fucker around by his tail, smashing him into the eye of the fiend trying to eat me.
The creature holding me wailed, a terrible shrill noise that vibrated my body so hard I thought I was going to throw up.
Instead, I swung the little red devil around on his tail, whipping him into the eye again.
Another wail from the big creature, followed quickly by a flex of his tentacles.
My flesh was, once again, torn apart by a host of sharp pointy bits.
I responded by slamming the little guy into the eye yet again. Then, as the big creature wailed and got another puncture-fest ready, I pushed off the teeth, stretching my body taut against the tentacles, which were straining and failing to hold me. I released the lip, hauled back, and punched my fist right into the eye.
For a heartbeat, the squishy surface of the eye held. But only for a heartbeat. The corneal flesh tore and my fist disappeared into gooey ocular internals.
The natural reaction might be to pull your fist out.
But that’s for fools and beginners.
I stretched my hand out, pushed it deeper, and reached around for anything to grab.
And there it was: a bone of some kind.
I got my fingers around it and pulled.
There was a chaotic moment or two, with the big creature trying to figure out how to get me into its mouth and out of its eye. Then it decided to just throw me.
Except I held on.
My feet whipped around in an arc, and suddenly I was straddling the gigantic eye.
And I still had the slightly squirming creature in my other hand.
For quick measure, I threw the little fat flyer against the wall and Chuck Norris’d a kick out, pulping its head.
“That’s for laughing,” I said as its remains sloughed down the wall.
I reache
d for my sword, but just felt goop.
The creature wailed and shoved its entire body upward, smashing me into the ceiling. It knocked the air out of me. Which was a minor problem, given that I only had one working lung.
I could feel the creature readying another smash. Just as the legs started going up, I pushed myself out and around, keeping my grip on its eye socket.
The creature slammed into the ceiling of the stairwell, and I hung in front of its mouth for a moment, trying to figure out what the fuck I was going to do. Best idea: drop off, and keep the beast from moving deeper into MountainHome. The thundering steps of the Legion echoed up the stairs, which meant it wouldn’t be a long wait.
But then I heard the plaintive cries of the people the fiend had already ingested. I knew that even a short wait would be, for them, an eternity.
And I only had one real weapon on me: my head.
So I pulled myself up and into the eye, screaming out: “I HATE MY JOB!” as I disappeared into the ocular goo.
63
There has never been a time when diving inside a creature headfirst is a good idea. Frankly, if you can remove the sexual undertones, I’d really rather never go inside another creature. And yet it seemed to have become something of a signature move.
I held my breath as I planted my feet on either side of the eye socket, and then I pushed hard, my body as my weapon, aiming straight for where I thought its brain might be. Also, hoping that my vague guess as to fiend anatomy was going to prove correct.
Frankly, I’m not sure it was.
Regardless, my brute force attack on the fiend’s innards had roughly the same result. There was a remarkable amount of squirming, thrashing, and seizing before a weird, wheezing noise, followed by the sound of something wet falling to the floor.
Then, stillness.
And a notification.
GG! You’ve killed a Spindle-Legged Devouring Devil (lvl 21 fiend).
You’ve earned 740 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
Also, a kill notice for the other creature:
GG! You’ve killed a Lesser Winged Imp (lvl 2 fiend).
You’ve earned 50 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
In something I will spend the rest of my lives seeking to erase with magic, I turned myself around within the juicy internals of the spindle legged devouring devil, slogged back through its ruined eye, and ocularly puked myself onto the stairwell. I fell out into the gloop and murk of the ruined devil above me.
My feet slid around in the muck as I worked on getting myself over and around to the thorax of the creature. There were people still inside, pushing and trying to get out.
I grabbed two handfuls of the loose, jelly-like flesh and tore the sack-like thorax open.
Pale blue slime poured forth, knocking me over and covering me. I grabbed limbs as they went by, trying to make sure no one would fall down the stairs in the slimefall.
“What the fuck?” I heard a familiar voice call out.
I wiped the goop and gore from my eyes, flinging it off my fingers and watching the slime soar across the stairwell and slap onto the wall.
Captain Czubakowski stood in front of me, in full armor and with a host of soldiers behind him, their shields gleaming in the glowstone light.
“Incursion,” I said, really trying hard not to let any of the stuff into my mouth.
It was an impossible task. It tasted like the worst thing I’ve ever imagined. That got left in a car, in the sun, in July.
“Not sure where from,” I said, trying to get to standing.
Alexander grabbed my arm and pulled me up.
“They are inside?” he asked.
I nodded. “At least a few,” I said. “Two down, not sure how many more. If you’ve an extra sword, I’ll head up, see if I can spot where they came in. Maybe you do a sweep?”
“You sure you want to go alone?” he asked.
“No, but I also don’t want some fiend to chow down somewhere else. And these people need help.”
I pointed over at the six people also covered in goo.
“Medic!” Czubakowski bellowed. “I will make sure they are taken to the ward to be checked over.”
“Thanks.”
“Lieutenant Meeks!” the captain bellowed. “Take three squads. One to search this stairwell, the others to search the floors, odd and even. Medic, move your ass—”
“You have an extra sword?” I asked quietly.
Alexander looked at the sword in his hand, and then over at the nearest soldier. “Nedermeyer, sword.”
The soldier nodded and passed his sword over.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll try to get this back to you.”
“Imperial property,” Czubakowski said. “Technically yours, in a way.”
“Great,” I said, and gave the Legion a jaunty salute before trekking upstairs.
I promptly missed a step, slipped in the slime, and slid down until a Legionnaire’s shield stopped me.
“Anyone see that?” I asked.
“We only saw your inspiring bravery, your grace,” the soldier said, looking straight ahead and not at me.
“Excellent,” I said with a wince, getting up for the umpteenth time and wishing I’d been fighting on flat surfaces.
Slower this time, I headed up the stairs.
Followed by Alexander Czubakowski and several squads of Legionnaires.
“Not wise to go alone,” the captain said.
I nodded. “Probably right.”
Up and up we went. Why did we have so many fucking stairs in this place? There were no doors. No hallways leading off into floors — just this mystery staircase that kept going up.
Three times while we were climbing, we saw imps flying about. Three times, we killed the imps. They weren’t very smart. Mostly they tried to goad you into attacking them. Which we did. And then they died. I didn’t really understand their purpose.
And then, snow.
There was snow falling down the stairs, coating a goodly chunk of the stairs in lazy drifts with a small, but growing, pile on the landing. I stepped carefully onto the landing and saw the open door. A single, simple door that was standing open, letting the night’s snowfall come inside.
Carefully, I moved up to the door and peeked outside.
Snow. Deep snow. But with telltale tracks leading away.
“Someone left,” Czubakowski said in my ear, and I jumped. “Sorry.”
“Just didn’t realize you were that close,” I replied.
“Got an ability to move rather quietly in my armor.”
“Useful when you’re leading around a whole host of metal.”
“It has its moments. Why is there a door here? What’s outside?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t know why this is here.”
“A secret exit, perhaps?”
“It’s been a secret from me, but I can’t say that’s the case with everyone. There’s a real chance I just never heard about it. But where does it go?”
I took one step toward the door, but stopped when I felt Alexander’s hand on my shoulder.
“Are you certain it is wise to leave?” He asked.
“Wise?” I replied. “No. Necessary? Yes. You and the rest of your soldiers secure this area. Keep the door closed. I’ll, um, I need a secret knock, don’t I?”
“That would be a good idea, your grace. But mentioning anything out loud this close to the door might give a listening fiend your secret.”
I took my sword tip, and scratched 3-2-2 into the rough-hewn stone wall.
“Got it?” I asked.
He shrugged, then said: “Sure. But I think it would be better to just chalk whatever has happened up to a mysterious loss and not go outside. Shut the door—”
“I can’t,” I said. “What if that thing, the spindle legged devouring devil, wasn’t the only big thing that came in? What if some devil already carried off a load of my people? I have to make sure that’s not the case.”
“
You, Duke Coggeshall, are a madman. And I love it. May Picus the God of Luck bless you on your insanity.”
I gave him a big smile.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got plenty of gods on my side.”
I walked confidently out into the snow.
And immediately got grabbed by something and lifted into the night.
64
The wind against my face was cold. Like, close school just because it’s cold cold. It hurt. I cursed Nikolai and Eliza for making me shave because the beard and hair would have given me some added protection. The slime on the rest of my body actually did a bit of insulating while it froze.
I looked directly up and saw a blob of a body with two huge wings and two legs, one of which was holding me. There was a short stubby neck ending in a triangular head with two spiraling horns. A long, purple, forked tongue dangled out of its wide mouth. The thing made ‘huh huh’ noises, almost like it was laughing. It had loose skin all over, with folds and wrinkles everywhere.
We flew up in circles as the creature tried to avoid the mountainside. I could just make out the door I’d come through, and the tiny face of Captain Czubakowski peeking out.
Which was enough to jog my memory that I had a sword.
I stabbed upward. The sword pushed against the skin of the devil, but it didn’t pierce.
I stabbed harder.
Same thing.
The creature looked down at me, its eyes like glowing orange rings with huge black pupils. It laughed in my face.
I looked at the sword, and I realized the tip was bent over a little.
Stab, stab, stabby-stab-stab.
Nothing.
I dropped the sword and tried to get my brain into thinking mode.
The spoon.
I reached into my inside breast pocket and grabbed the celestial spoon, the bonus present from Mister Paul. It seemed absurdly small in my hand, like it had no chance of doing anything.
But when I jabbed it into the fiend’s leg, I heard a sizzle and a pop. The skin just sort of burned away as the spoon seemed to melt right on through.
