by Clayton Wood
He looked down, gazing at the bones of the long-dead creatures stirred by his passage…and stopped dead in his tracks.
Something was wrong.
Zac slid his foot forward through the pile of corpses, watching as they were pushed away. Something was…off about the way they were moving.
He reached down, picking up one of the bones, studying it. Then he dropped it.
It fell slowly through the air.
One…two…three…
Downward it fell, rotating ever-so-slowly.
Seven…eight…nine…
It struck the ground at ten.
Zac stared at it for a long moment. Then he repeated the experiment with a different bone, with the same result.
What…?
He did it a third time, tossing a bone forward, watching as it sailed away from him. Then he strode forward, each step propelling him farther than he expected. He passed the bone he’d tossed, batting it aside as he went.
Mist swirled around him, agitated by his passage. Again with that agonizing slowness.
Then a shadow appeared through the mist ahead, a huge creature that vaguely resembled a panther. It was twice as big, with gray armored plates covering its body, its eyes faceted and colored iridescent purple. And even stranger, it had the wings of a dragonfly.
Zac paused, his body tensing. The creature’s eyes narrowed, and it took a moment for Zac to realize it was lowering itself slowly to the ground.
Getting ready to pounce.
It launched forward at him, its front paws stretching forward, its claws extended.
Zac felt a burst of fear, his whole body tensing. But the panther sailed through the air toward him with the same slowness as the bones had. He frowned, sidestepping its attack easily, watching as its head tracked his movement in mid-air.
A while later, the panther landed, pivoting toward him. Then it lunged at him again.
This time Zac felt no fear. Only curiosity. He side-stepped again, this time extending his own claws. They sank into the beast’s flank, as it passed by him, tearing through its armored flesh. Zac felt a tugging at his hand as the panther flew by, but again, the attack was almost effortless.
Blood sprayed from the wound a while later, droplets coalescing in mid-air and falling gracefully to the ground.
Zac watched this for a while, enjoying the odd spectacle.
And then the hunger struck.
It came suddenly, so powerful that it bent him over as if he’d been kicked in the abdomen. He gasped, clutching his belly.
The hunger was unlike any he’d ever experienced. Ravenous, demanding to be fed.
He grit his teeth against the sudden agony of it, his legs giving out underneath him. He fell slowly to his knees.
Everything else faded away. Nothing else mattered.
Zac spotted something in his peripheral vision, and turned to see the panther in mid-pounce, sailing toward him, its ears flat against its head. He felt a flash of irritation, and lashed out with one hand, shoving its paws to the side and slashing at its face.
The panther clipped him in the shoulder with its own, sending Zac flying backward…again with that terrible slowness. They both fell to the corpses below.
Son-of-a…
He got to his feet – far faster than the panther could – and kicked it in the flank as hard as he could. Its ribs crumpled with the force of the blow.
The hunger grew ever-stronger within Zac, gripping his guts and refusing to let go. It was torture, this hunger.
The panther had the audacity to bare its fangs at him, and started rising to its feet.
Zac leapt at the creature, tearing into it with his claws. Cutting deep gouges into its neck and face, rupturing its right eyeball. Before it could even understand what was happening. Before it had any chance to react.
He shredded the beast, raking at it with his hands and feet. Literally tearing it apart.
And when he was done, when the sudden rage began to subside, he stared at the bloody remains of the panther. The rage was gone, but the hunger remained. Demanding to be appeased.
Zac fell to his knees before it, and obeyed.
Chapter 36
Lady Camilla stepped into the large bedroom, moonlight casting the wide bed at the other end of the room in a silver hue. She expected her Dio to be in it, but he was by the side of the bed, doing pushups on the floor. A portly man with thick glasses stood to one side of him, clearly vexed.
“Dr. Phelbus,” she greeted, nodding at the man. He turned to her and bowed.
“My Lady,” he replied. “I’ve tried to get him to rest, but he refuses to listen to reason!”
“Go on Dio,” she ordered. “It’s late, and you need your rest.”
Dio stopped immediately, standing up and getting into bed.
“How is he?” she inquired, gazing at Dio. It was strange to see him without his mask; something Dio rarely allowed. His eyes were narrow with slit-like pupils, fine silver scales surrounding them. The scales crossed the bridge of his nose, going down to his cheekbones, and then faded back to skin. There was a small pit in the scales below Dio’s eyes, between his cheekbones and his nose. Heat sensors, she knew.
One of Dio’s many…modifications.
“Recovering well,” Dr. Phelbus answered. “I suspect his left lung had partially collapsed due to his impact with the river after his fall from the bridge,” he theorized. “No ribs appear to be broken, but he has a sprained knee and several lacerations that I have repaired.”
“Thank you doctor,” Camilla stated. “You may leave us now.”
Phelbus bowed, then left the room, closing the door behind him. Camilla sat on the edge of the bed next to Dio, smiling down at him. She leaned over, running a hand through his short blonde hair. He stared back at her with those strange, unblinking eyes.
“I failed you,” he stated bluntly.
“Shhh.”
“The girl escaped me,” Dio continued. “I found the Original. He escaped as well.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Camilla replied. “What matters is that you’re okay.”
“It does matter,” Dio insisted, his tone bitter. He turned his head away from her, staring up at the ceiling. His blanket only covered him from the stomach down, his chiseled chest bare. She gazed at it, not for the first time marveling at the thick muscle there. He was a singular specimen of a man, having grown up to be even more impressive than she – or anyone else – could have imagined.
Especially considering how…unimpressive his parents had been.
Camilla put a hand on his cheek, gently forcing him to turn back toward her.
“You needn’t retrieve the Original or the Empath,” she stated, smiling at him. “The Original just paid us a visit,” she revealed. “We’re allies for the moment.”
Dio stared at her, clearly confused…but knowing that she would explain. A man of few words…a man of action. The two were often mutually exclusive.
“The creatures that attacked you were Svartálfar,” she informed him. “Zeno reincarnated Zagamar and Zagamar is the source of the dark elves. We’ve allied with the Ironclad, Tykus, and the Kingdom of the Deep.”
Dio just nodded once. No questions, no surprise.
“I need you more than ever,” Camilla continued, stroking his cheek. “To protect me from our new enemy.”
“Yes Mother.”
She smiled, leaning in and kissing his forehead. Then the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. Gently, holding the kiss for a long moment. Then she disengaged, sitting up straight.
My Dio, she thought.
He’d been such a sweet boy, barely five years old when she’d discovered him. Five years old, yet able to play the piano as well as his father and knit like his mother. And butcher animals perfectly like his neighbor, the town butcher.
Able to do anything anyone else did.
It hadn’t been long before people realized Dio’s power. The ability to absorb skills so perfectly and quickly wa
s rare indeed…and had made him a highly sought-after commodity. No shortage of patrons had visited Dio’s parents, offering large sums of money to buy the child.
Including Camilla.
The parents had refused. They loved their son and would never part with him.
Camilla recalled the moment she’d rescued him from the men who’d tried to abduct him. Who’d murdered his parents. She recalled stepping carefully around the bodies lying motionlessly on the floor around Dio’s room. His terrified eyes staring at those bodies, then at her. She’d reached out for him with blood-spattered arms, telling him that everything was going to be okay.
“Do you love me Dio?” she inquired.
“Only you,” he answered.
She smiled, leaning in to kiss him again, then putting a hand on his chest. She slid it downward, feeling those thick slabs of muscle beneath her fingertips, followed by the peaks and valleys of his abs. She passed his bellybutton, pausing there for a moment. Waiting for his reaction.
She didn’t have to wait long.
And then there was a loud bang from outside, following by an ear-splitting shriek.
Camilla froze, and Dio leapt out of bed, running to the window and peering out. Then he turned to face her.
“We’re under attack,” he warned.
Camilla ignored the chill running down her spine, joining him by the window and staring out of it. The front lawn of the mansion was three stories below, cast in silver from the three moons and countless stars above.
The gate at the fence surrounding the property was destroyed, dark shapes spilling through it. Hundreds of shadowy creatures swarming across the path and through the crops on either side of it toward the entrance to the mansion.
Her blood went cold.
Svartálfar!
She grabbed the whistle hanging from a chain around her neck and blew it.
The great horned serpent resting next to the path came alive, uncoiling rapidly. It reared its head, lunging for the nearest Svartálfar, snapping one up in its massive jaws and swallowing it whole.
More of them rushed at the serpent, hundreds of them crashing upon it like a black wave. They climbed atop it, hanging on as the serpent thrashed its long body, tossing some free and trampling others under its countless feet.
Still more came, engulfing her serpent, covering every inch of its silver body. More Svartálfar rushed at the mansion, slamming into the front double-doors while others started to climb up the walls themselves. Their black eyes stared back at her as they climbed, reaching the second story windows with frightening speed.
Glass shattered as they broke in, followed by muffled screams from the floor below.
“We need to run,” Dio declared tersely. He was already pulling on his Seeker uniform, and got dressed in seconds. Grabbing his mask and his staff, he strode toward the bedroom door, pulling it open and gesturing for Camilla to follow.
They made their way into the wide hallway beyond, seeing guards and Seekers sprinting toward them.
“My Lady!” one of them cried. “We’re under attack!”
“Set the front lawn on fire,” Camilla ordered. “Guard the stairs. Don’t let them up!”
“M’Lady…”
“Don’t talk,” she snapped. “Do!”
The guards broke off, rushing down the hall away from them, to the main staircase beyond. They shouted out orders, more guards congregating at the top of the stairs. The Seekers stayed with Camilla, and Dio led them past the guards. Camilla glanced down the stairs, seeing Svartálfar swarming up them, moving frighteningly fast.
“Protect the Lady!” a guard cried.
The guards held their shields tightly, the first of the Svartálfar smashing into them.
“To the roof!” one of the Seekers yelled. Dio led them and Camilla to stairs going up to the fourth floor, and they sprinted up. There was a sound of glass shattering from below, more Svartálfar breaking through the windows on the third floor.
She glanced back, seeing Svartálfar swarming over the guards below, tearing them limb-from-limb. More and more of the dark elves came, rushing up the stairs and leaping at the guards with abandon.
The guards’ screams cut to her soul.
Camilla reached the top of the stairs, a narrow hallway ahead…and saw Svartálfar rushing across it toward her!
“Forward!” a Seeker cried. The Seekers rushed toward the Svartálfar, each unsheathing their dual scimitars. Dio stayed with Camilla, his staff still on his back.
The Svartálfar and Seekers met in the middle of the hallway, scimitars flashing as the Seekers fought the vile creatures back. Unlike the guards before, the Seekers did not fall so easily. Imbued with spirits of the Kingdom of the Deep, trained daily for battle, they were far superior.
One Seeker fell in a spray of blood, but not before taking out four Svartálfar.
“From behind!” Dio snapped.
Camilla glanced back, seeing Svartálfar rushing up the stairs toward her.
“Give me a weapon!” Camilla ordered. Dio obliged, retrieving a bloodied scimitar from the ground, dropped by one of the fallen Seekers. She gripped the hilt, facing the oncoming creatures.
And then Dio pushed past her, intercepting the beasts, pulling his staff from his back.
“Stay back!” he cried.
He burst into action, swinging his staff at the nearest Svartálfar, catching it across the temple. It flung to the side, slamming into the wall and ricocheting off…only to be hit again, the blades at the end of Dio’s staff slicing through its throat.
Its head toppled from its body.
Dio’s staff whirled, taking on the next Svartálfar, then the next, the hallway so narrow that only two could face him at a time. Camilla turned, watching as the Seekers fought back the Svartálfar. More Seekers had fallen…and the ones that remained were being pushed steadily backward, closing in on Camilla.
She was trapped.
A dark elf leapt over the Seekers, landing beyond them and lunging at her!
Camilla dodged to the side, reflexes she’d absorbed from her treasure-trove of artifacts kicking in. But the dark elf moved even quicker, extending an arm to clip her left shoulder with its claws as she ducked out of the way. This spun her off-balance, nearly throwing her to the ground. The creature lunged at her again…and was struck by a flash of silver.
Its head flew from its body, bouncing off the opposite wall and landing with a thump on the floor.
Camilla turned, seeing Dio standing beside her, his staff dripping with blood. He’d killed a dozen Svartálfar already, their bodies littering the stairs. But more were crawling over those bodies toward Dio and Camilla…and a third of her Seekers down the hall ahead were dead. The remaining Seekers were making headway, beating the Svartálfar back. There were stairs leading up to the fifth floor beyond, Camilla knew.
“You okay?” Dio asked, dodging out of the way of one of the dark elves’ attacks, then chopping its arm off. Camilla glanced at her shoulder, seeing a small laceration there.
“I’ll live.”
Dio backpedaled, and Camilla did as well, advancing down the hallway toward the Seekers, who finished off the last of the Svartálfar ahead.
“Go, go!” one of them shouted.
Camilla followed behind them as they ran down the hallway, spotting stairs going up ahead. Dio followed behind her, staving off the Svartálfar as he went. One of them managed to slash his chest, ripping the leather there, and Dio made the creature pay for it with its life.
“To the library,” Camilla ordered.
“Too dangerous,” Dio shot back.
“I’m not leaving without the Epics,” she argued. The most powerful of her collection of artifacts, she could not allow them to get in Zagamar’s hands.
She went up the stairs, following her Seekers to the top, then turning right down a wider hallway. There were no Svartálfar ahead, only the ones behind. She spotted the door to the library at the end of the hallway, only ten meters away. H
er Seekers led her to it, opening the door and ushering her through.
To her relief, the library was deserted.
“Hold them off,” Camilla ordered Dio, running into the library and kneeling before a rug on the floor. She pulled it aside, revealing the wooden floor beneath. Lifting a false plank, she saw the knob of her safe below, and twisted it rapidly, entering the twelve-digit combination.
There was a click, and she pulled the safe door open, lurching back as she did so.
A poison dart shot straight up into the ceiling.
She waited, and a second dart shot upward. Then she leaned forward, reaching into the safe and pulling out a large obsidian chest. It was remarkably heavy.
“To the roof!” she commanded, running toward the library entrance. Dio was there at the other end of the long hallway, holding back a literal mob of Svartálfar. Her Seekers ran ahead of her, leading her to a side-hallway to the right. They hurried down it, skidding to a stop at one of the many doors on the left and throwing it open. There was a narrow staircase leading upward to the flat rooftop…and to the stable where her winged horses were kept.
“Dio!” she cried.
“Coming,” he shouted. She saw him appear at the other end of the hallway, slashing at one of the dark elves. Then he turned and bolted toward her, more Svartálfar spilling down the hallway after him. Camilla ran up the stairs, following her Seekers through a doorway at the top.
The roof of the mansion spread out before her, bathed in the light of the three moons high above.
She saw the stables ahead, squat buildings with winged horses inside, and sprinted toward them, skidding to a halt before one of them. One of her Seekers opened the door, leading a winged stallion out, then lifting Camilla up into the saddle while another placed the obsidian chest in its saddle-bag. She reached for the harness to strap herself in.
“Hurry!” a voice shouted.
She glanced up, seeing Dio running like mad toward her, Svartálfar spilled out of the doorway she’d come through and onto the roof, chasing after him.
