by Clayton Wood
The remaining Ironclad stood there, facing away from Hunter and Vi.
Vi tapped Hunter on the shoulder, then pointed down. She pointed at herself then, and then at the Ironclad. Hunter nodded.
She bolted into the cavern suddenly, making a mad dash toward the Ironclad, her boots barely making any noise on the rocky floor. It was only by the time she was a few feet away that it heard her, turning around.
And by then, it was too late.
She whipped her mace right into its face as it turned its head, knocking it off its feet and onto its back. Its head struck the floor, bouncing off…just as her mace smashed into its face again, sinking into it with a sickening crunch.
Vi glanced at Hunter, gesturing for him to come forward.
He walked quickly into the cavern, trying to move as quietly as possible. She grabbed one of the Ironclad’s arms, and motioned for him to grab the other. They pulled it back into the tunnel they’d entered through, until they reached the stream. Hunter helped Vi shove the thing into the water, and watched as it slid downstream, vanishing down the tunnel beyond. Vi nodded at him, then walked back up the tunnel to the cavern, Hunter following close behind. To his relief, the cavern was empty, the other Ironclad nowhere to be found. There were two other tunnels, one to the left, and one straight ahead. The other Ironclad had gone down the tunnel to the left; Vi glanced down each, then pointed to the leftmost tunnel.
“That way,” she whispered. “If I tell you to run,” she added, “…get back to the stream and take it down to the exit.” Hunter nodded, feeling the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. She strode toward the leftmost tunnel, and he followed close behind, their footsteps making not a sound. The tunnel had lanterns bolted to it, and again the passage appeared man-made, rising upward and curving slightly to the left. Vi slowed, inching forward silently, putting a hand up for him to stop. He did so, resting one palm on the cool stone wall.
Then he felt a crawling sensation on the back of his hand, and drew it back sharply, shaking it. Something small fell off, landing on the ground and crawling quickly away. Hunter peered at it; it was black, barely visible against the dark floor. An insect, he realized.
A small black beetle.
He stared at it, then noticed more of them crawling along the floor…and the walls. Dozens of them. He glanced down at his boots seeing a few climbing up his ankles. He grimaced, swatting them away, then stepping on one of them. But when he lifted his foot, the beetle scurried away, unharmed.
He glanced up, realizing that Vi was a few yards ahead, creeping forward, her hand on her mace. He rejoined her, staying a few feet behind. The tunnel ended ahead, opening up into another cavern. No, it was a room, Hunter realized; the walls were made of mortared stone, more lanterns bolted to them. It was perhaps eight feet by twenty feet, with an arched ceiling ten feet high. There was a single gate at the other end, made of vertical metal bars…and an Ironclad stood before it, facing away from them. It grabbed a large keychain from its hip, inserting one of the keys and turning it in the lock with a click.
Then it paused, glancing backward.
Vi pulled Hunter behind cover just in time, and he pressed himself against the tunnel wall, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt a tickling sensation on his scalp, and resisted the urge to swat at the beetles he knew were crawling in his hair. He waited, hearing a creaking sound as the gate opened.
Vi burst forward, sprinting toward the gate!
Hunter scrambled to catch up with her, making a mad dash behind her. The Ironclad stepped through the open gate and into the room beyond, closing the gate behind it. Vi reached the gate just in time, jamming her mace between the gate and the wall to stop it from closing all the way. Using the mace as a lever, she pried the door open, then ducked low as the Ironclad swung at her, cracking it in the knee with her mace. It fell forward, and she grabbed one of its arms, yanking it backward through the gate. With two more swings of her mace, she bashed the back of its skull in.
Then, as before, she had Hunter help her drag the corpse all the way back out of the room, down the curved hallway into the first chamber, then back to the stream. They dumped the body, then retraced their steps, arriving back in the room with the now-open gate. Hunter peered beyond the gate, spotting a much larger room…deserted, thank god. Vi stepped through the gate, Hunter following close behind. The room he found himself in was at least thirty feet square, with large stone columns supporting a high, arched ceiling. There was furniture here, a large rectangular table with oversized wooden chairs surrounding it. Paintings hung from the walls…some of wild landscapes, others portraits of people. He studied one of them; it looked like a portrait of a family, a small wooden house in the background.
Hunter noticed Vi studying the room – staring at the columns supporting the ceiling. He glanced at them; there were symbols carved on them, symbols that looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t place where he’d seen them. She shook her head slowly.
“This doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. He glanced at her questioningly. “These letters,” she explained. “It’s the same language we use in Tykus.”
She stared at the symbols for a moment longer, then turned in a slow circle, taking in the room. There were two closed doors leading out of it. She walked up to one of them, pushing it open slowly and peeking through. She pulled back quickly, shutting it and shaking her head.
“Other door,” she mouthed, walking up to it. She cracked it open slowly, peering through. Then she nodded, opening the door all the way and gesturing for Hunter to follow. They stepped through into a long, narrow hallway, a single door at the other end. Vi strode silently down the hallway, Hunter following her. They’d nearly reached the door when he heard a creaking sound behind them.
Vi stopped, glancing back. She shoved Hunter to the side, his back striking the wall. He stared at the door they’d come through, goosebumps rising on his arms.
Thump, thump.
Vi stepped between Hunter and the door, drawing her mace from her hip. The door opened slowly, two black armored hands gripping the edge. Vi shoved Hunter back just as the Ironclad stepped through, its black eyes glittering in the torchlight.
It froze.
Vi burst forward, swinging her mace at the thing’s head, but it jerked backward, slamming the door shut. Her mace smashed into the wood, splintering it with a terrible crack. She cursed, grabbing the door handle and yanking back on it, but it didn’t budge. An ear-piercing wail came from beyond the door, echoing through the tunnel.
“Shit!” Vi swore.
Hunter heard a creaking sound behind him, and turned…just in time to see an Ironclad burst through the door. It lunged at him with terrifying speed, and he jerked backward, unsheathing his sword in one smooth motion, slashing at the thing. But the blade was too long for the narrow hallway; it struck the wall to his left, bouncing off. The force of the impact jerked the hilt right out of his hands, his sword dropping with a clatter to the floor.
“Vi!” he shouted, reaching down and grabbing his sword…just as the creature grabbed him.
He heard Vi curse, heard a loud crunch behind him. The Ironclad wrapped its arms around Hunter, lifting him bodily off the floor and crushing him against its armored chest. It hauled him back toward the door it’d come through, squeezing him so hard he could barely breathe. He gasped, sheathing his sword and grabbing at the thing’s hands, trying to pry them off him.
The Ironclad pulled him through the doorway, kicking the door closed. He saw more Ironclad swarming toward the door on either side, barricading it with their massive bodies. The Ironclad holding him tightened its grip, forcing the air from his lungs. He struggled futilely, trying frantically to squirm out of its grasp, to take a breath in. His head began to swim sickeningly, his vision blackening.
Hunter heard Vi’s muffled shouting, saw more Ironclad swarming around him as he was pulled backward, his boots scraping against the floor. Another loud wailing sound echoed off the walls.
Chapter 32
The Royal Guard watched as Dominus limped down the long hallway, stopping at last before the door to the Royal Chamber. Conlan had requested he visit again in a few hours after their conversation on the balcony earlier. It’d been the first time in years that he’d seen his son vulnerable. That they’d talked – really talked – without devolving into yet another argument. Afterward, a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been holding lifted off of his shoulders, and he’d felt a sense of peace that had surprised him.
He smiled at the memory, not caring if the guards saw it. Let them wonder why an old man was smiling to himself.
He leaned on his cane, nodding at the guard standing before him, who placed his hollow scepter in the small hole in the door to the Royal Chamber, announcing Dominus’s arrival. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Conlan standing on the other side, clad in his royal robes. He smiled at Dominus, seeming relieved to see his father. Dominus smiled back.
“Come in, come in,” Conlan urged. Dominus complied, stepping into the room. The guard closed the door behind them. “Thank you for coming,” Conlan added.
“How are you?” Dominus inquired. Conlan paused, staring off into space for a moment. Then he refocused on Dominus.
“I’m sorry?”
“How are you,” Dominus repeated.
“I’ll be better once this transformation is complete,” Conlan answered crisply. “As much as I trust the dukes are maintaining the kingdom in my absence, you and I both know what can happen when men are given my power, even temporarily.”
Dominus stared at Conlan, taken aback.
“Present company excluded, of course,” Conlan added with a wry smile, slapping Dominus on the shoulder. “The Dukes of Wexford have ever been my staunchest allies.”
“Indeed,” Dominus murmured. He paused. “So you’re doing well, Conlan?”
“Hmm?”
“Conlan,” Dominus repeated, feeling a knot in the pit of his stomach. The transformation couldn’t possibly be complete yet. He hadn’t said goodbye to Conlan…hadn’t had a chance to talk one last time.
“Yes?” Conlan pressed.
“You’re doing well?” he repeated. Conlan shook his head, his shoulders slumping. He began to pace.
There he is, Dominus thought, feeling relieved.
“As well as a dying man can,” Conlan muttered. “That’s a terrible question, father. Inane. You’re better than that.”
“I was merely…”
“Trying to initiate a conversation,” Conlan interrupted impatiently. “Yes yes, I know. I don’t suffer fools, Duke. Are you turning into a fool?”
Dominus grimaced, recognizing that tone. It wasn’t Conlan’s.
“I thought I was talking to my son,” he replied calmly. “It’s diff…”
“Difficult to tell now, I know,” Conlan snapped. “So you think I’m a fool father?”
“No, I…”
“Am I a fool to fear my own death?” Conlan interjected, glaring at him. “If so, then all men are fools.” He glanced down at Dominus’s feet, then smirked. “You chief among them.”
“It is not foolish to fear death,” Dominus stated.
“Yes, it’s the unknown, isn’t it?” Conlan mused. “The great unknown, a future shared by all. Death. Nothingness.” He shook his head. “Now I die so that this…” He gestured at himself in disgust. “…tyrant can live.” He continued pacing. “You know what happens if I walk out of this room, hmm? If I leave before my mandatory break?”
Dominus held his tongue.
“I’ve tried it,” Conlan confessed. “They pull me back in, my guards. Grab me and pull me right back in. So here I am, a prisoner awaiting his death sentence.”
“Conlan…”
“Can you imagine a worse death, father?” Conlan inquired. “A more hideous way to die? To watch your very soul be torn bit by bit from your body?” He shook his head. “I had a life, father. I had a future. So many things I wanted to do, so many things I could have done. But thanks to you, I never got that chance.”
“I didn’t make the rules,” Dominus protested.
“Bullshit!” Conlan retorted angrily, almost shouting. “These rules are all you care about and you know it!”
“That’s not true,” Dominus protested. “I care about you.”
“Not as much as you care about Tykus,” Conlan retorted. He sneered at Dominus. “Try to deny it.”
Dominus said nothing. Could say nothing.
“My life is worthless because of Tykus,” Conlan continued. “The man died over a thousand years ago, yet we keep bringing him back. Reliving the glory days, when a true Legend ascended to the throne.” He shook his head. “And what, pray tell, is so damn important about a goddamn Legend?”
“You know the answer to that,” Dominus replied. “His will preserves the human race.”
“Just because a man can bend another man to his will, that makes him important?” Conlan inquired. “A man’s importance is in proportion to his ability to influence others? So what of everyone else…the millions born since who have weak wills? Do their lives mean nothing?”
“Of course not,” Dominus replied. “They all play a role.”
“Ah yes,” Conlan muttered. “I remember your lectures well father. Every man has a role.” He sneered. “You and your damn bees. People aren’t insects, father!”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“You treat them like they are,” Conlan retorted. “You’re treating me like one,” he added. “Placing me in my role. Sucking all the meaning out of my life. Killing your own goddamn son.”
“You are my son,” Dominus argued. “You have meaning to me.”
“Then why did you let this happen?” Conlan demanded. “Why didn’t you give me a chance?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Dominus protested. Conlan snorted.
“You chose to cede the crown to me,” he shot back. “You chose to make that inane suck-up your heir. What’s his name?”
“Axio.”
“And you could have given him the crown instead,” Conlan argued. “Could’ve made him your heir before the king died, and he would’ve taken the throne, and I would’ve taken the Duchy. But you didn’t do that, father. You didn’t want to do that.”
Dominus just stared at Conlan, unable to reply. He was right, after all.
“You didn’t want me to be the Duke,” Conlan accused, stopping his pacing and jabbing a finger toward Dominus’s chest. “You did everything you could to prevent that. You killed me to prevent that.”
“I gave you a great honor,” Dominus retorted. “To be the embodiment of the king!”
“To become a dead man,” Conlan sneered. “You’re all living in the past, resurrecting old men with old ideas. This whole government is sick. It’s wrong. A bunch of old men clinging to their glory days, terrified of change.”
“Of losing our humanity,” Dominus reminded him. “You fear the loss of your identity,” he added. “Why can’t we fear the loss of ours?”
“I’m afraid of losing my soul,” Conlan corrected. “You’re afraid of losing the color of your skin…your hair, your blue eyes.”
“You know why…”
“You cling to this one image of Man,” Conlan interrupted, “…this pinnacle of creation. It’s bullshit, father. We’re not meant to stay the same. We’re supposed to adapt, evolve…improve.”
“You are improving,” Dominus stated coldly. Conlan grimaced.
“And you’re clinging to the old ways,” he shot back. “Saying they’re better because they’re comfortable. The future is unknown and frightening, isn’t it father?”
“The future is known,” Dominus countered. “We create it,” he added. “We’re creating it right now.”
“Times change father,” Conlan argued. “And we need to change with them. Everyone else outside of this damn kingdom will.”
&
nbsp; “So you would have us destroy everything we’ve created?” Dominus asked. “After millennia of safeguarding the very essence of humanity – an Original who was a Legend, purely human – you’d have us just throw it all away?” He threw up his arms. “For what?”
“For a chance at making humanity better,” Conlan answered. “The Kingdom of the Deep is doing it,” he added. Dominus rolled his eyes.
“Oh come on,” he retorted. “Don’t even mentioned those…freaks.” He glared at Conlan. “Is that what you want? To turn men into animals? We can all become savages and lose everything that makes us us?”
“Not everything,” Conlan countered.
“You’re a fool,” Dominus spat. “You think you know everything, but you know nothing.”
Conlan smirked.
“Do I now father?” he stated. “I’d beg to differ. I think you’ll find I know a great deal.” He strode toward Dominus, stopping less than a meter away and clasping his hands behind his back. “I know what you’ve been up to…dallying in forbidden artifacts.”
Dominus blinked, taking a step back.
“I know that you,” Conlan continued, stepping forward again and jabbing a finger into Dominus’s chest, “…have quite the collection now.” He sneered. “Tell me father…have you started experimenting with wild artifacts yet?”
Dominus swallowed in a dry throat, a chill running through him. Conlan’s smile broadened, and he nodded to himself.
“I knew it,” he gloated. “The great Duke of Wexford, nobly sacrificing his son to preserve the kingdom, to save humanity…all the while corrupting his own.” He shook his head. “How does it feel to be a hypocrite, father?”
Dominus said nothing, knowing that to admit what he’d done would be suicide. He couldn’t imagine that Conlan would betray him, but in his current state of mind…
“How could such a thing happen?” Conlan mused, resuming his pacing. “I mean, how could the purest of men, the very Duke of Wexford, be led so astray?”
