by Deck Davis
He smashed it with his claws, then stepped through.
When he did, he saw that it wasn’t just a shortcut, but a room. It was a dead end, no bigger than a garden shed. The walls were craggy and made from stone that had a silver tint to it. Dew ran down them and made a dripping sound when rivulets hit the ground.
The strangest thing about the room was that a beam of daylight shone down from the roof. It was clear and had a cold edge to it. Nathan followed it and, looking up, saw that there was a small hole at the top. Just a crack, barely enough for a mouse to crawl out of, but it allowed a trace of daylight to illuminate it. It was his first hint of the outside world of Adonis since he’d been near the exit.
Dereck paced around, wringing his hands in agitation. “I can’t get it out of my head,” he said. “The way Gevil gutted him. Watson is gone. That motherfu-”
Then he stopped. He took a breath. This time, the cleric’s meditation didn’t work, and his face reddened. “He’s gone, Nathan.”
He was. Not only that, but Sherlock was too. He was trapped on the other side of the tunnel with the Seekers. Consumed by rage with the death of his buddy. He was sure to attack Gevil in revenge, but he was outnumbered. Nathan didn’t even want to think about it.
“I’ve never seen a spell like that,” said Dereck. “Those goddamn spheres. What was he trying to do? Bring the whole mountain down around us?”
Everything had gone to shit. Watson was dead, Sherlock would soon follow. Their plan had seemed to work at first, but then Layre had ruined it. Now, Nathan was injured. It didn’t look like they had anything going in their favor.
“Maybe it’s time for you to leave,” he said. “You still have a chance. There’s nothing holding you here.”
Dereck shook his head. “I’m going nowhere. If I die, sure it’ll be painful, but I’ll respawn. You don’t have that luxury, and I’m not leaving you.”
Nathan couldn’t help replaying the scene in his mind. Seeing the blade pierce Watson’s throat. Watching Sherlock as he clutched his dead friend, a look of anguish on his face.
The images fast-forwarded in his mind. He saw Layre gathering his mana around him. He watched the spheres hurtling in his direction, exploding against anything they touched. Rubble flying everywhere. The booms in his ears, loud enough to drown out everything else.
The spheres. There was something about the spheres and the way they exploded.
Images flashed through his head. Fleeting. He saw colors; the orange of an explosion, the crimson stain of blood. He heard screams, but they seem to come from another world. Another life.
The pictures began to slow down. These were memories, he realized.
The thought hit him so hard that he was almost out of breath. He felt the room start to disappear around him as a memory came back to him, hitting him full force.
He remembered the stifling heat as the sun shone on his combat gear. Sweat pooling on his forehead. Sunlight shining off yellow stone walls. Somewhere in the distance, the boom of artillery. This was a plaza in a war-torn city, but people went about their daily business as if they were used to the chaos of battle.
He was in Inelsa. The most unstable of the Eastern European bloc countries. He’d been stationed there just a month. That morning, he’d pulled patrol duty. There were 3 squaddies with him. He looked at them and saw their khakis, but couldn’t remember their names. The words were there, somewhere, but the details were too fuzzy.
They heard a booming sound. Then a loud drone. Something flew across the sky, and then bombs started to rain down on them. The other 3 squaddies ran for cover, but Nathan had paused.
Why had he stopped?
Across the road. There was a small school, and children were in the playground enjoying some play time. As bombs fell from the skies and exploded into the roads and pavements, the children screamed.
He heard his squaddies yell at him to get to cover, but he tuned them out. He couldn’t take his eyes off the playground. He knew he couldn’t just leave the children and teachers to fend for themselves.
So as the bombs smashed into the ground, he’d ran across the plaza. He got to the playground. Out of breath, he’d started taking control. Telling the teachers where to go. Picking up children and dragging them to safety.
And then something had exploded near him. So close that the sound deafened him. Something smashed into him, sending him flying twenty feet away. Something pierced through his chest, and he felt a burning pain. An agony like he’d never experienced before. He had just enough time to look up and see that the children were safe.
And then his vision started to fade. He couldn’t breathe. The pain lessened.
Everything became black.
And he became still.
“Are you okay?”
He snapped out of the thought and found himself back in the mountain. Dereck was knelt in front of him, looking at him with concern.
“What’s going on, Nathan”? he said, with an edge of panic in his voice.
Nathan looked at him. For a few seconds, he couldn’t form the words that he wanted to say.
“I saw…” he said, but couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Saw what? You zoned out on me.”
Back before he’d entered Adonis, Dina had told him that he died a hero. She said she couldn’t show him his death. Well, he’d seen it anyway. His memories had broken through and penetrated the fog inside his head.
That must have been what she’d meant. He’d died saving the children while bombs rained down around him. That wasn’t the action of a hero. He was a fool. He’d put his squad in danger. He’d ran into the jaws of death.
What else could he have done, though? Just let them die? Just given up and ran away?
Nathan stood up. No, he told himself. He couldn’t have tried to just flee, because it wasn’t in his nature. And if he hadn’t done that in his 1st life, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it in his 2nd.
“What’s going on?” said Dereck.
He looked at the cleric and felt an overwhelming pity for him. The cleric still didn’t know how he’d died. Nathan knew, now. And although it had hit him like a hammer in the gut, it was something everyone should know, he realized.
But he wouldn’t tell Dereck yet. He couldn’t. Not until the cleric found out how he had died, too. It wouldn’t be fair.
He looked up at the roof of the room and saw the daylight that penetrated the hole. He opened his eyes to it. He let the breeze wash over his face. And then he turned around. He looked at the dark passageway that lay beyond the room.
He wouldn’t run from this. He wouldn’t let Layre win.
He brought up his map. His heart leapt when he saw that an ‘M’ icon was still listed on it. It was Sherlock, alright, and the map showed that he was in the main chamber. They hadn’t killed him yet.
That meant that Layre and Gevil had reached the heart of the mountain. Layre obviously had business there, but Nathan didn’t care about that. All he cared about was taking back the mountain.
It was time to go and drive them out for good.
Chapter Seventeen
They walked through the tunnels and toward the main chamber. Both he and Dereck were fueled by anger. It was like a spark passing back and forth between them, igniting their fury anew every time it flashed. Nathan couldn’t get the image of Watson out of his head, but he didn’t want to. He needed it as kindling for the flames of his fury.
As he followed the passageways, his heart beat so quickly that he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. His cheeks were burning. Every so often, pictures flashed in his brain.
The split-second image of his claw impaling a man’s neck.
Blood leaking from ripped skin and pooling on the ground.
The rot room, full of bodies. He imagined himself next to them. Rolling around and coating himself in blood.
He checked his insanity meter. It was at 45% - enough for him to control himself for now, but soon, the images would get
stronger. He’d start to hear voices telling him to do things.
He wondered if he should ask Dereck to use his spell to bring his meter down, but there was no time. Looking ahead, the main chamber was just twenty meters away.
He stopped. Dereck looked at him.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“You understand that this is it for us, don’t you?” Nathan said. “There are too many of them. This is a last-stand kind of deal.”
“You’re talking like you’ve given up.”
“No. I’ve just come to terms with it all. If I die, I die. Hey, it’s happened to me before. I’d just rather go out on my terms. I’d prefer to cop it by taking the fight to them, rather than having them run me down in the tunnels.”
“For what it’s worth, even as a monster you’re better than most of the people I’ve met in Adonis.”
“Thanks,” said Nathan. “Listen, when we get in there, I want you to hang back. I’m going to attack, and it’ll be chaos in there. I want you to grab Sherlock and then both of you can get out of here. I’ll keep the Seekers busy.”
“We’re not leaving.”
Nathan held firm. “You are. I can’t go, Dereck. The only way I can think to leave is by completing the third ancient room, but I need the blood of 4 or 5 people to get in there. That’s just not gonna happen. You have a chance.”
“I’m going to fight with you,” said the cleric. “Whatever happens.”
“Then let’s go.”
Pulse pounding, muscles feeling tense, Nathan walked down the tunnel. He steps slowed, as though he was deliberately drawing them out because he knew they’d be his last.
What he’d said to the cleric was only partly true. Sure, he’d died before. He didn’t fear death. But he did regret it. He’d wanted to explore Adonis and see what was out there, but it didn’t seem like he’d get the chance.
Forget that for now, he told himself.
He focused his senses. He heard voices. As he listened to them, he started to get an uneasy feeling. There were way too many people talking. Back in their last fight, Nathan had killed two of the newbies. In his head, it sounded like at least 10 people were in the main chamber.
Keeping his senses in tune, he brought up his map. Sure enough, he saw more P icons than he’d have liked. There were 9 of them in the main chamber, all gathered on one side of it. Over near the rot room, there was an ‘M’ icon that marked out Sherlock. That made 10, but at least 1 was an ally.
“Ready?” said Nathan.
The cleric had taken his two fire scrolls out of his inventory bag. He adjusted his robe and then nodded. “Ready.”
Nathan broke out into a run toward the main chamber. He didn’t hold back from his thoughts this time. Blood, guts, violence, he’d let it all come out. He worked on adrenaline, and he felt it pump around his body and spur him on.
He reached the end of the corridor and turned a corner. He was in the left tunnel that opened into the main chamber. He stopped and assessed what was in front of him.
He saw Sherlock slumped next to a wall. He was alive, but his HP was drained to within a centimeter of reaching empty. They’d beaten him almost to death, and it’d take only one blow to finish the goblin off.
He saw Gevil over in the corner, sharpening his knife on a whetstone. Sparks flew every time he scraped it.
Layre was near the rot room, stood in the doorframe and looking in. Writing something in a notebook. Milling around the room, chatting with each other, were 7 hooded newbies. Fresh-faced, wands out.
That was more than they’d had before. How?
Dereck caught up to him. He took one look at the room, then pointed to the right. There was a shimmering vertical sheet of light. Vaguely oval shaped, tall enough for a man to step through.
“That’s a travel portal. Bet it leads to the guild.”
“So, unless we close it, more guild members can come through?”
Dereck nodded.
An idea struck him. “We could use it to escape the mountain.”
“Afraid not. Only guild members can use it.”
Nathan sighed. “Time to get to work.”
He stepped out of the opening and into the main chamber. He saw the water mirror on the far side wall. He smelled the odour of the rot room. Sour, evil. Calling to him.
The 2 newbies nearest to him stood up. One dropped his wand in surprise. The other grimaced. He looked around, wondering who was supposed to make the first move. Realizing it was him, he raised his wand. A red light began to glow on the end.
Nathan didn’t give either of them chance to react. He took one giant step forward until he was in front of the newbies. He tensed his arms. In a double uppercut motion, he impaled the hooded figures through their chins. Their bones made popping sounds as he snapped through them, and he felt a warm spray of blood on his skin.
Insanity meter increased to 65%!
It was 10% per kill, it seemed. And man, what a difference 10% made. The rest of the newbies were on their feet now. Some stared at their friends, who hung from the end of Nathan’s claws. Others gripped their wands, gritted their teeth, and aimed at Nathan.
He stumbled back. His vision faded for a second. He saw flashing images. He was back in the schoolyard. This time, instead of helping the children, he was chasing them. He was there as a Tuphos monster, and he was tearing after them, claws outstretched.
He shook it away, forcing the image into a reluctant retreat. He saw 5 wands pointed at him. Four held in firm hands, one shaking with fear.
Gevil had dropped his whetstone and was walking over to the fray. Layre Mock slowly turned away from the rot room.
Dereck joined Nathan at his side now. He had his scrolls ready. He didn’t seem scared in the slightest.
Layre walked forward a few paces and then crossed his arms. He stood over the shoulder of one of his newbies, towering over the normal sized man. He gently tapped his arm, making him lower his wand.
“The monster and I need to talk,” said the wizard.
The newbies withdrew their wands. The red lights faded, like extinguished cigarettes. Gevil didn’t lower his weapon. Instead, he pulled out a second dagger. The tip was stained green. It must have been a poison blade.
“Do you know why I’m here, monster?” said Layre. “Truly, I mean. It isn’t the call of treasure, like some people I could mention. Nor is it because I care about completing quests. No, my reasons are far worthier. You see, within this mountain-”
No. He wasn’t going to listen to this. He knew the start of a monologue when he heard one, and he had no desire to indulge it.
Nathan stared at the newbies, who were lined up in a row in front of the wizard.
He breathed in. Held the air in his lungs. He felt his blood rush through his veins.
He leapt toward the newbies, covering ten feet of ground in one jump. He aimed at the 2 hooded figures on the left of the row. One made a futile attempt to raised his wand, but Nathan was too quick.
He dug his claw into the side of his temple, hearing the crunch of bone as he stabbed through it. The newbie made a death rattle sound. His eyes seemed to bulge, and blood trickled from his nostrils.
The newbie next to him had managed to start a spell. Yellow threads of light covered his wand and wrapped around the wood, before converging at the tip.
Too slow. Nathan pulled his claws out of the dead newbie’s temple and let his body slap on the ground. He stabbed forward, gutting the yellow thread newbie in the stomach. The man shrieked. Nathan twisted his claws, causing maximum damage to the man’s insides. Then he withdrew them, and he heard the squelch of blood and vital organs.
His insanity meter was 85%.
Blood pounded in his ears. A crimson filter swam in his vision. He smelled something. The odour of raw meat. Delicious. Enough to make his mouth water. His arms felt tense, as though he yearned to use his claws again.
He saw the playground. He was chasing the children. Claws raised. Licking his lips
at the prospect of a meal.
He stumbled back. He had to control himself.
Behind the newbies, Layre held his hands above his head. Light began to gather on his fingertips, scintillating in the darkness. He was going to use his spherical bombs again. In such an enclosed space, there was no escape. The explosive orbs would smash everything around them. They would unleash a destructive rain of rock that could tear the room apart.
Kill them all, urged the voice in Nathan’s head.
He smelled blood. He tasted it on his tongue. He imagined what it would be like to be in the rot room with dozens of corpses. Rolling with them on the fleshy floor. Coating himself in their blood. Tearing away strips of their flesh and putting them on his tongue to savor the taste.
