Plague of Death

by D. L. Armillei

  “Let’s go,” he said to Thyra, and they headed deeper into the island with two of his men.

  Van found it difficult to take her eyes away from his departing figure. Her gut twisted with the sinking comprehension that she wanted him back just as much as she wanted the Coin.

  Disgust washed over her. She would never be a good warrior if she couldn’t control her feelings. Van resolved to stop concerning herself with the wellbeing of those around her and refocused on completing the mission.

  Daisy moved close to Van. “He left three of his men with us.” She placed a hand on Van’s back, a tender touch. “Ferox would’ve taken them with him if he wasn’t coming back.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Pernilla overheard Daisy. “We don’t need him or his stupid ship.”

  Ferox’s men scowled but said nothing.

  The group meandered around the shops and stands, staying in the downtown area, as instructed by Ferox.

  None of the island’s inhabitants bothered them, and Van thought the rumors about Cortica were greatly exaggerated.

  They circled back to Paley, who remained at the food stand with the wet-hemmed boy.

  Van sidled up next to her. “Hey.”

  Paley smiled, her eyes glassy, most likely from the empty mug in front of her.

  “Having some fun.” Paley leaned into Van and attempted to whisper, “while we can.” She looked at the others with a sloppy grin. “You never know when another kraken will jump out and attack us.”

  “It was a laocoon,” Brux said. He extended his hand to the boy. “Brux.”

  The boy shook his hand. “Jedrek.”

  The others made their introductions.

  “You’re only young once.” Jedrek raised his mug to the group. “Have to live for the day.”

  Van didn’t like him. Something seemed off about the boy. He appeared well-kept, yet Van couldn’t shake the slimy vibe he emanated.

  The stand’s attendant slammed four oversized mugs down in front of them.

  “What’s this?” Kopius asked, picking up one of the mugs.

  “A clap of thunder,” he said. “House specialty. Looked like you all could use one.”

  “It’s on me.” Jedrek smiled.

  Van grabbed a mug, it was the size of her head. She struggled to get it to mouth, it was so heavy. She took a sip and choked, the potent drink tasted like a mix of cranberries, iced tea, and grain alcohol.

  “I’m a bit afraid to drink anything here,” Daisy said.

  “Let’s go walk around,” Van said to Paley, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  Paley shook her head and moved closer to Jedrek. “I’m good.”

  Van sighed. Nothing short of dynamite would get Paley away from an interested guy.

  “Come on,” Van persisted. “We need to…go.” She raised her eyebrows, trying to get Paley to catch the hint and stick to the mission.

  “You never want to have fun.” Paley seemed angry. “We’re teens. This is our time.”

  Van grew irritated. “We’re not here to have fun. We have work to do.”

  “Come on,” Jedrek said. “Loosen up a little.”

  “You’re a poop.” Paley pouted.

  “Yeah, you are,” Pernilla said to Van. She swiped her mug off the counter and took a sip and coughed. “Wow.”

  Pernilla’s comment caused Van’s annoyance to spiral since it was evident that Pernilla agreed with Paley for the sole purpose of riling Van.

  “I dare you to have some fun,” Paley said. “At least until prince fussy-face comes back and drags us away. Probably lock us up forever.”

  Paley and Jedrek leaned in toward each other and chuckled like co-conspirators.

  “Paley, you need to keep your mouth shut,” Kopius warned.

  “There’s tons of fun places to explore,” Jedrek said. “Food stands, gambling, game rooms—hey, there’s even a wax museum.” He pointed across the street.

  “That’s a weird thing to have on Outlaw Island,” Daisy muttered.

  “It’s called ‘outlaw’ because people are free to do what they want.” Paley’s eyes darted to Jedrek as if she spoke his earlier words.

  “Only about half the people here are actual criminals,” he said. “And they’re more freebooters, doing what they need to survive.”

  “Okay.” Van clutched Paley’s arm. “Let’s go in there.” She indicated the wax museum.

  “Ho, no.” Paley wobbled and had to regain her balance from Van’s tug. “I’ll be staying here, with Jedrek. You guys go. Have some fun for once.”

  “What about the,” Van lowered her voice, hoping Jedrek wouldn’t hear, “gemstones? You have to stay with Brux.”

  Paley leaned in and said in a failed attempt to whisper, “It’s right across the street. Close enough.”

  Van looked at Brux.

  He nodded in agreement with Paley. “It’s within the radius for our separation not to cause an additional drain.”

  Kopius glanced at the museum and raised his brow in interest. Daisy gripped his hand, indicating she was ready to go with him.

  “I’ve seen people going in and out,” Kopius said. “Can’t hurt to pop in for a bit.”

  Pernilla shrugged. “Could be interesting. We can kill some time while we wait.”

  “This is still a dangerous place.” Brux looked concerned. “There are twisted souls here.”

  “Maybe not,” Jedrek said. “The sign says wax museum and funhouse.”

  “Why does it have the word fun in parenthesis?” Van asked.

  “Don’t be a party pooper,” Paley goaded. “You’re such a wuss.”

  Pernilla often insulted Van using the same word. Paley used it now to hit Van where it hurt.

  “Fine. We’ll go in, but when we get back, you’ll leave Jedrek and come with us?”

  “Yup.” Paley bobbed her head.

  Van and the others crossed the road and entered the enormous rectangular structure called Wild Willie’s Wax Museum and “Fun” House.

  Ferox’s men waited outside as the five of them walked through the wooden double doors and entered the lobby.

  Across the room stretched a counter spanning the wall. It reminded Van of an Earth World movie theater’s concession stand. Although, this one had barstools on both ends and the concessionaire stood in the middle behind the counter’s display cabinet, which was filled with boxes of candies and a popcorn bin.

  The man had a long, white beard combed into a point, silver hair, and pointed ears. “Welcome. Welcome.” He opened his arms wide and gave them a huge, over-the-top smile. “What’s your pleasure?”

  “It’s a wax museum, isn’t it?” Van asked, thinking this guy was crazy.

  A teenaged boy scurried behind the concession stand, scooping popcorn. He put three boxes on a serving tray that already held several freshly poured mugs and disappeared through a swinging door.

  “I can get you anything.” The concessionaire winked at Brux. “And I mean anything.”

  The patrons sitting at the counter pretended not to stare, but their side-eyed glances were obvious.

  One of the customers sitting a few stools down tipped his head toward the concessionaire, “He’s in a good mood because he finally found himself a wife.”

  “At last—he found someone who can stand him,” said another patron. “It’s a miracle.”

  The silver-headed man guffawed and, in good-nature, reached across the counter and grabbed the patron’s shoulders and gave him a shake. “So right, you are.”

  He smiled and extended his hand to Brux. “Name’s Willie Pria, proprietor.”

  Brux, Van and the others introduced themselves.

  When Daisy reached out her hand, Willie grasped it in his and kissed it. “Hello, my beautiful flower.”

  Kopius pulled Daisy’s hand out of his grip and held her close.

  “She’s one for the demimondaines,” he said to Kopius. “You looking to sell her?” He leered at Van and Pernilla. “Those two wi
ll fetch a price too.”

  Pernilla protested, insulted, then asked, “Wait—what are the demimondaines?”

  Willie ignored Pernilla’s question and continued speaking to Brux and Kopius. “Here, they’re not as choosy as the houses in Osney.”

  “We’re not interested in selling our girls.” Brux gave him an angry glare.

  “Well, I’d keep an eye on them,” Willie returned Brux’s hard stare, all cheeriness in his tone now gone. “There’s lots of bad people here. They could end up at the Treasure Chest, anyway. You might as well get paid for it, rather than killed.”

  Brux turned to the team. “We’re leaving.”

  “No, no,” Willie said, his cheerful tone returned. “All in good fun.” Willie smiled and spread his arms wide, again. This time he pointed out two doors, each on opposite sides of the lobby. “Choose your adventure. On the house. To apologize for my remarks. Pick a door.”

  “It’s free,” Pernilla said. “Can’t beat the price.” She headed toward the door to the right.

  Van and the others followed her into a poorly lit, black-walled room with no windows.

  Brux entered last.

  As soon as he set foot inside, the door closed behind him, and the lights went out.

  Chapter 29

  Van could hear Brux patting the wall.

  “There’s no handle to get out.”

  “Hey!” Kopius pounded on the wall.

  “Let us out!” Brux yelled.

  Dim lights turned on, highlighting a corridor on the opposite side of the room that led deeper into the museum.

  Van grabbed what felt like Daisy’s arm with one hand, and what felt like Brux’s hand with her other.

  “It’s me.” Brux gave her hand a squeeze.

  They moved down the dim corridor, single file, in one connected group.

  “I think we entered the funhouse,” Pernilla said.

  “I’m not having fun,” Daisy said.

  “Now we know why the word fun was in parenthesis,” Van muttered.

  They entered a poorly lit room with about a dozen wax figures on display.

  Kopius perused one of the female sculptures. “It’s Queen Amaryl.”

  “They’re warriors from the Dark War,” Brux said.

  “If they have artifacts from the ancient warriors here,” Pernilla scrutinized the wax sculpture of Prince Goustav, “we might find something about the master demon for Uxa.”

  Van peered at the figure of a woman with long, wavy, golden hair. She held a gold chalice. “Here’s Zurial.”

  After getting Zurial’s memory engram Van became interested in learning more about the woman’s prominent and impactful life. Zurial had lived a thousand years ago and was still remembered to this day.

  Van leaned in and read the museum label.

  The Lodian Princess Zurial married the Balish King Manik Moor, ending the Dark War. A wedding designed to make peace between their tribes…the caption talked more about her life—things Van already knew—and then went on to say the wax figure had genuine fragments of Zurial’s dress and strands of her actual hair.

  “Ugh!” Van stepped back. “This place is creepy.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Brux said, sounding apprehensive.

  He turned to leave the room, but the door had disappeared. Brux ran his hands up and down the solid black wall. “Where’s the door?”

  “Gone,” Kopius said. “There’s no turning back.”

  Van glimpsed the arm of someone wearing colorful, dotted material on their puffy sleeve moving among the shadows in the room. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. “There’s someone in here.”

  Brux and Kopius dashed over to look behind the wax figures where Van thought she saw someone.

  “I don’t see anyone.” Brux stood behind several wax figures.

  “Nope,” Kopius said. “No one’s here.”

  “Look.” Pernilla pointed to the far side of the room.

  A wooden, arrow-shaped sign appeared. It read “this way” and pointed down another gloomy corridor.

  “We have no choice,” Brux said.

  Again, they clasped hands and cautiously trod down the passage.

  Van felt her heart pound against her chest. She didn’t like the funhouse and blamed Paley for their misadventure. None of them would be in this situation if Paley hadn’t goaded Van into it.

  The floor dropped from under her feet.

  Van screeched as she and the others plummeted for several seconds and crashed into a ball pit.

  Van got her bearings and stood. Her legs trembled from the unexpected fall.

  “What the?” Kopius said as he and the others rose from the pit.

  The balls were made with an off-white fiber. Van grabbed one and held it up to get a better look. Something moved inside.

  “These aren’t balls.” She shivered and whipped it aside. “There’s something inside them.” She waded through the spheres, rushing to the side of the bin.

  All around them, the round, fibrous objects began opening. Stick-like legs poked through, tearing the fiber.

  Van thought they were spiders until one hopped onto her neck.

  “Ugh!” Her hand snapped up, and she threw the insect aside. The green bug had two large, round, yellow eyes and long, pointed, bent legs—it looked like a praying mantis.

  Van felt tugs on her scalp as some of them got tangled in her hair. She shook her head and swept her hand trying to get them out, but it caused the bugs to become more entangled.

  More and more of them hopped on her.

  The others yelped and scrambled to get out of the bin.

  Van swung her legs over the side, still using her fingers to yank insects out of her hair as her feet hit the floor.

  She brushed the green bugs off her clothes, as Brux and Pernilla leaped over the side of the bin. Daisy and Kopius followed.

  They used their hands to wipe themselves and shimmied to get the insects off their clothes.

  Van was about to say something, and one jumped into her opened mouth.

  It wriggled as she used her tongue to push it out, and then pulled it away with her fingers. She gagged.

  The bin rapidly filled with insects. They multiplied at an unnatural rate and crawled over the sides like water spilling from a bucket.

  “We need to leave. Now,” Kopius said, as he and Daisy both stepped back from the bin.

  The insects reached Van’s boots, they began hoping onto her pants.

  “Come on.” Brux tugged Van’s arm.

  She shook her legs to dislodge the insects and got moving.

  They rushed down another dimly lit corridor.

  Fog filled the passageway causing Van to choke. The thick mist made it impossible to breathe.

  “Keep going,” Brux said, coughing, barely able to get the words out.

  They outran the fog and stumbled into a room with black walls, no windows, and two arrow-shaped signs. One sign read “boys” and pointed to the left passageway. The other sign read “girls” and pointed to the right.

  The fog rolled into the room on their heels.

  Without hesitation, Kopius and Brux dashed down the left corridor, Daisy and Pernilla ran down the right. With a split second thought—I’m sticking with the guys—Van hurried down the hallway to the left.

  The fog drifted down the hallway and surrounded Van, not as thick so she could breathe. But the mist made it difficult to see.

  She slowed her pace and stopped. “Brux?”

  There was no answer.

  Something moved behind her.

  She whipped around. “Who’s there?”

  Silence.

  “Kopius?”

  Van could feel the presence of someone in the corridor with her, and it wasn’t one of her teammates. Her heart raced so fast, the pounding filled her ears.

  She dashed away, farther down the corridor.

  The fog cleared enough for her to see.

  Van had entered what looked li
ke the stall of a barn.

  A reddish-brown horse stood before her, lengthwise so she could see its protruding ribs. The horse appeared malnourished but was too busy eating to notice Van.

  “Hey there.” Van raised a quivering hand to give the horse’s neck a comforting stroke, thinking the animal must be scared of being in this crazy place.

  Her hand touched a rope. She noticed a blood-stained noose around the horse’s neck.

  She cringed and recoiled.

  The horse snapped its head toward Van.

  But it didn’t have one head—it had two heads, malformed and conjoined.

  Van gasped and stepped back.

  It’s fanged teeth from both mouths dripped with blood. Its eyes faded and muddled. On the floor, Van could see the horse was eating severed body parts. Arms, legs, a torso—human remains.

  Van screeched and ran down another a corridor, searching for an exit.

  She entered a darkened room and stopped. She could see shadowed forms of the exhibits, but since the lights were off, she couldn’t make them out.

  “Let me out of here,” she cried into the darkness.

  Silence.

  She couldn’t even hear the others.

  Faint lights turned on.

  Van was in another room that displayed wax figures. But these sculptures were not people from the Dark War. These figures were horrifying.

  Several unshaven men hung from a brick wall chained by their wrists, their bodies emaciated, their faces twisted in agony. A pale woman dangled from the ceiling, locked in an immobilizing metal cage. She held an expression of terror and hopelessness. A male figure laid face up on a wooden frame. His legs and arms bound, his abdomen sliced open. His intestines were exposed and had slid out of his body, they dangled over the side of the wooden contraption. But from the look on his face, the man was still alive—yet a wax figure.

  They looked so real.

  Van shivered. The room resembled a medieval torture chamber, filled with a variety of sadistic devices, including whips, chains, collars, and metal masks.

  She noticed an overweight, middle-aged woman wax figure sitting on a chair in the corner. The woman’s teeth were rotted, and some were missing. Her cherub cheeks were dirty and had fresh scratches as if she had been clawed by those trying to escape her torture. She wore a grubby butcher’s apron and held a chain attached to a bloodstained meat hook.