Jerlo fumbled in his belt pouch. There were two things he never left his office without, one was the globe of lumir still gripped in his left hand, and the other was a grappling hook. Jerlo set his light down then removed the hook from his belt pouch, snapped up its three prongs locking them into place. Unwinding the rope, he’d long ago braided into a belt took a few minutes, but he had all the time in the world right now.
And there must be a hole up there. If a man-sized mass of rats could squeeze through it, then he could too.
“Look!” Vanya pointed. “There’s the key.”
It shined in the light of the lumir crystal she’d dropped. Somehow the two objects had ended up near each other. But of course, both were ringed by venomous snakes. Were they backing away from them? Jerlo stared at the outer ring of snakes as they slithered into the water and vanished. Maybe cobras didn’t need to breathe.
“They’re leaving?”
“I don’t think so. There’s still at least fifty of them, but they look too fat and happy from their meal to budge.” Jerlo untied the last knot then looped the thin rope around his arm. He looked for a good place to sink his grappling hook into while the coiled rope slipped off his arm into a tidy pile.
“Stand back.” Jerlo swung the grappling hook in an arc to warm up his throwing arm. The rock spur he’d selected would take excellent aim and luck to catch. But if he failed, there was a less than perfect substitute underneath it.
“What are you going to do? Swing over and fetch the key? You can’t still want to talk to him. It’s not worth your life.”
“No, it’s not.”
But he had to know why all these strange things were happening and the answer was inside the oubliette not out here. So Jerlo launched the grappling hook after giving it several more revolutions. He missed. The hook dropped into the river and caught something. Jerlo jiggled the rope until the hook let go then he reeled it back in for a second toss. To get more height, he climbed onto a boulder and lengthened his swing. This time he waited for five revolutions before letting the hook fly. He missed his primary target, but the grappling hook wrapped around a stalactite. He yanked hard on it, but it didn’t budge.
“What are you planning to do? The door on the other side is locked.”
“It might be, but we’re going nowhere without that key. So I might as well try the other door.”
“And what about me? Am I supposed to huddle on the rocks until the snakes eat me?”
“Snakes are shy creatures. I don’t know what riled them up. They usually slither away from humans. But if you’re concerned, you could always climb. I think there’s another way out up there. Cobras—if that’s what they are—aren’t rock climbers.”
“And here I thought Rangers protected people.” She sneered at him.
“Do you see an enchanted forest around here? Cause I don’t. I’m just as out of my depth as you are. Now let me get on with this.” Jerlo gave the rope another yank. A knife flashed, severing the rope. Its end dropped into his hand. He spun to face her.
“You’ve had a knife this entire time?”
“So what if I did? What good would it have been?” Vanya turned it in the lumir light catching its glow.
Jerlo wrenched the puny knife from her hand and examined its needle-thin tip.
“What are you doing with my knife?”
“Getting us out of here.”
“How? The door’s locked from the outside.”
“Hold this for me.”
Vanya took the lumir globe from his off hand and held it, so it illuminated the lock. Jerlo plunged the knife’s tip into the gaping hole and jiggled it.
This lock used a simple plate spring—a piece of curved metal whose tension kept the door locked. All he had to do was slip the tip under the spring and push it up thereby releasing the pins. The lock was probably left by the Litherians who’d carved out this place. Otherwise, it would have been updated to the newer locks which used a ward spring and a smaller keyhole like the one Jerlo used to secure his most prized possession, his map of Shayari.
Jerlo turned the handle and swung open the door. A relieved Vanya stepped through it then turned.
“Aren’t you coming?”
Jerlo shook his head. “No, a certain prisoner and I have things we need to discuss.”
“Just bear in mind who you’re discussing these things with. The man’s a monster through and through.” Vanya shuddered.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Conversation over, Jerlo pulled the door shut but stopped when Vanya’s sandaled foot shot into the door’s path. Had she been any other woman, he wouldn’t have kicked her foot out of the way and shut the door with a resounding clang. Strong women like Inari and Ranispara he could work with, but not their weaker counterparts. Shadows closed in on Jerlo, but it was such a relief to be on his own again. He slumped against the door and reveled in his sudden solitude.
“Wait!” Vanya pounded on the door. “How are you planning on seeing anything? I still have your lumir crystal.”
Oh, now that was a problem. This chamber, unlike everywhere else under this mountain, was bare of said luminous stone. A sliver of silver light glinted off the key. Half the snakes had either gone for a swim or found somewhere else to be. The rest sprawled near both objects. And his favorite grappling hook was still anchored to a stalactite.
Time to find out if a full belly made cobras as torpid as humans. Jerlo pocketed Vanya’s knife. She had no use for it now, but he might need it. Getting a running start, he jumped and caught hold of the rope’s dangling end.
Climbing hand over hand was easy thanks to all that archery the whole Ranger thing required. Soon he was a man-length above the ground where he paused to consider his next move. He could tie the rope around his ankles and drop down to grab the lumir stone and the key then pull himself up. Could he move faster than a striking snake? Probably not but none of the snakes were paying him any mind. Their hooded heads rested on their coils, and their half-lidded eyes stared into the middle distance.
Maybe he should swing past them and try his luck picking the door to the oubliette. It might be the same simple plate spring construction, but what if it wasn’t?
While he was wasting time unlocking doors and getting rid of unwanted sidekicks, the river had risen until it was almost level with the middle of the sagging causeway. Waves washed over the paving stones then receded leaving a slippery mess. If he waited any longer, he’d have to swim with the snakes, unless they’d found a more hospitable place to hang out. What were so many cobras doing underground? Didn’t cold-blooded creatures prefer to lay about on sun-warmed rocks?
A fly buzzed his ear. Jerlo jerked his head to one side to avoid it. Another fly whizzed past his ear and then hundreds more until the air was thick with flying insects. They dove en masse, morphing into two hands. One scooped up the key and the other, the lumir stick Vanya had dropped. The cross around Jerlo’s neck heated up as the twin hand-shaped swarms reversed course then hovered by his head, presenting their find.
“What are you?” Jerlo anchored his foot on the rope and freed a hand to take both items.
The swarm shaped itself into lips and a buzzing sound issued. “A friend of a friend.”
Then it balled itself up and struck Jerlo hard enough to set him swinging. He let go and rolled across the slick stones until he crashed into an iron door. Jerlo jerked his foot out of the way as the grappling hook bounced to a stop by his thigh. He folded its prongs down and pocketed it then wound the rope around his waist. He had a feeling he’d need it on the return trip unless the water receded before then.
The Twice-Dead Still Breathes
Before something else went wrong, Jerlo inserted the key into a rusted lock, and it squealed as he turned it. Cold water dampened the soles of his boots as a wavelet rolled across the narrow stone apron in front of the door. Clasping the handle, Jerlo pulled and cringed at every squeak and squawk until he could squeeze through the gap.
> Glad to shut the door on those snakes, he leaned against it and just breathed for a moment as he got his bearings. Dust choked the stale air, and he doubled over coughing while he fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. Breathing through that square of black linen, he sank to his knees and tried to catch his breath. The ground was bone dry here. Surprised, Jerlo turned the lumir stick’s bluish glow on the door. Could it form a watertight seal?
While Jerlo waited for the dust to settle, he felt along the jamb. The ancient caulking felt sound. No snakes, no immediate danger of drowning, things were looking up. Too bad the grimmest part of his errand waited somewhere in the darkness like a spider in its web. Lowering the handkerchief, Jerlo tested the air. I should have brought a candle. He shook his head at that lapse.
When he didn’t keel over from bad air, Jerlo rose and pocketed the handkerchief. Particulates still floated about, but they no longer choked him. The lumir stick he clutched illuminated a narrow, twisting tunnel bare of cells or ornamentation. Its cold gloom beckoned to him. He shuddered but set off anyway.
Each step dimmed the lumir crystal’s light. Shadows forced its waning glow to contract around Jerlo. When he turned the first corner, it winked out. Jerlo shook it, but the stone remained dark. Just great and Sarn wasn’t around to magically rekindle it.
Well, he’d be conducting this interview in the dark then. It seemed fitting after the hellacious journey to reach this place. His shoulder bumped something hard. After copping a quick feel, he determined it was a torch. Crouching, Jerlo felt for loose stones he could strike and started when his fingers ran along narrow grooves cut into the rock. Were they scratch marks?
Jerlo spread his hands wide seeking more, and his fingertips brushed across more symbols hacked into the floor. Upside down stars were circumscribed by circles. Beside them were carved fishes, rams and an arrow pointing to where the oubliette must be. Jerlo cursed when his hand knocked loose pebbles sending them clattering down the tunnel. Something was very wrong here, and he might have just tipped off whatever was waiting for him.
“Who goes there? Who walks this lightless gloom?” asked a voice hoarse from disuse. Metal clanged against metal.
“Why does the lumir cease to glow here? I’ve never known it to fail.” Jerlo eased off first one boot then the other and secured them to his person. Flexing his bare toes, he felt for loose debris—anything that might give him away—and avoided them. Not a whisper of cloth signaled his approach when he slid from hiding.
“It’s this place. There’s something in the stone down here that eats the light produced by magic. This place is made of darkness.” Hadrovel said, sounding more like himself with every word. “Welcome to my personal hell.”
“Fitting accommodations for a monster, don’t you think?”
“Inhumane in the extreme, ah but I’m no monster. I’m as man as you are.” Rattling metal disturbed the quiet.
“Are you?” Jerlo crept toward Hadrovel’s voice on cat feet, not hard given his nimble, acrobat’s physique. Keep talking psycho, so I can find you. Jerlo eased around another bend, pausing when his fingers glided over more scratch marks. They were in three parallel but uneven lines suggestive of claws. What have we here?
“Who are you? What do you want?”
Was there a note of desperation in Hadrovel’s voice? Jerlo suppressed the cruel thrill that sent through him. Stay on task. He admonished himself before addressing the psycho again. “To talk about demons.”
Jerlo slipped around another bend. The echoes of Hadrovel’s voice were growing closer and the distance between bends shorter.
“How do you know about that?”
Hadrovel banged around his cell. The dull clang of metal mixed with the splintering sound of wood. Who’d let that fiend have furniture in his cell?
“Never mind, just tell me how many demons you helped summon and why.”
The wall Jerlo had been hugging for what felt like miles curved sharply into an alcove. His foot brushed a pedestal, and his wrist bumped a curved object—a statue maybe. He ran his hands along a halo crowning a woman’s brow and stopped. It was the Pietà. He sank to one knee before it, and something tumbled off the Mother of his Savior’s lap.
On reflex, Jerlo caught it before it could make a sound. He felt along the object and almost dropped it in shock. It was a crucifix on a long pole. One end was sharpened like a stave, and there was something wrapped around its shaft—a leather pouch. He opened it, and white light flooded the chapel. He stared at the star floating in the glass vial.
Andurai, said a voice in his head as the star pulsed, blinding him.
Startled, Jerlo released the pouch, and the vial dropped deeper into its belly. When his vision cleared, Jerlo propped the crucifix against a rotting pew and bowed his head. Enough light spilled out of the pouch to illuminate an ancient church. Steel cables held the crucified Son of Man above an altar. His eyes opened, and for a moment, all of heaven regarded Jerlo. He threw himself flat on the damp cobbles.
Off in the distance metal grated. It sounded like the outer door protesting as it opened, but it couldn’t be. He had the only key to that door in his pocket. Jerlo slid his hand down to his thigh to check it was still there.
“Who goes there? I heard the door open.” Hadrovel asked. That note of desperation was back in his voice.
Through the wool of his uniform pants, Jerlo squeezed the key. Had Vanya lied about it being the only key to the oubliette? Why would she? Who else knew about this place? Jerlo listened for a long moment, but the door didn’t protest a second time. Had he heard someone enter? Or was he slowly going mad on this grim errand?
Hadrovel banged something. The dull report meant it was likely stones this time. Maybe the lout had run out of metal things to throw. “I know you’re there. This is about Sarn, isn’t it?” Hadrovel shouted as he rattled something. “You can’t have him, beast. I fixed it, so you can’t.” Hadrovel’s protestations dissolved into raucous laughter that echoed in the underground church. “Do you hear me? You’ll never get your claws on him, monster.”
Jerlo pushed up to a squat and cinched the pouch closed. Darkness smote the church. While he waited for his eyes to adjust, Jerlo felt for a pew and followed it to a wall. Sorry, Lord, I’ll pay my respects later. I think you’ll agree there are more immediate matters at hand. He opened his mouth intending to call out to whoever had entered, but silence wrapped cold hands around his throat, choking him.
Something scraped along the tunnel he’d been following. Thanks, Lord, for that quick save. Jerlo waited, every nerve afire for trouble. There it was again that strange scratching sound. Listening hard, Jerlo crept out of the church into the tunnel system. He heard nothing but the too loud breathing of this place’s only prisoner. Had he imagined that odd sound?
“Where are you? Show yourself, and maybe I’ll answer your questions.” Desperation softened Hadrovel’s demand into a plea.
If he was incarcerated alone down here, he had to be starved for human contact. Did a monster who’d so cruelly abused those under his care deserve to die forgotten and alone? Jerlo backed into the church, felt for a pew and sat. Why had he come here? For answers or to terrorize the man who still gave Sarn nightmares? Was he not complicit in those monstrous acts?
“Why didn’t you look?” Sarn appeared though this younger apparition of him was a half foot shorter than he was now. “Look at me. See what he did—what you allowed him to do. Look at me.” Sarn threw off his ever-present cloak, and the glow of his eyes bathed his bruised face in green light. “What was so important in those papers you were always filling out that you couldn’t take one second to look at me?”
Sarn limped forward, dragging his badly broken leg. He knocked over a metal rod. When the glow of his eyes reflected off the crucifix crowning the rod, he vanished.
Jerlo picked up the cross and kissed it. Thanks, Lord, I needed that reminder. I came for answers yes, but also to do your will. He rose and set off making deliberate noi
ses this time.
“Who goes there? I won’t tell you anything unless you show yourself. Oh God, please show yourself. I’m not going mad. Do you hear me? You can scuttle about all you like, but I know you’re out there. Do you hear me?” Hadrovel banged something, but its dull echoes made it impossible to guess what the item was.
“Oh, I hear you.” Jerlo removed the vial and its light shined on a pitiable thing—a man who could not be killed by any craft man possessed.
Hadrovel flung his arm over his face protecting it from the light. “My eyes! A little warning next time would be nice.”
The arm lowered revealing a well-fed man in clean, well-mended clothes. In fact, other than his hunched stance so he could peer out the Judas window, he looked unchanged from the man the Guards had led to the executioner’s platform.
“Jerlo, I should have known it was you. You’re a cruel one to sneak up on a prisoner like that. But I heard darkness is your friend. What do you want?”
“Tell me how many demons you and your friends brought into this world.”
Hadrovel barked a humorless laugh. “And what do I get in return?”
“This.” Jerlo withdrew a miniature All-Fruit from the pouch on his belt. The plum-sized super fruit’s golden skin shined in the vial’s strange light.
“You’d give me such a restorative?” Avarice glittered in Hadrovel’s black eyes as he gripped the bars of the Judas window.
“If you answer my questions.”
Laughter startled Jerlo. He pivoted to face its source.
“Well done!” A figure clapped his hands. “That’s an offer worthy of a king. Such a pity to waste it on this poor wretch.”
Light flared. Strips of a purple skirt burned merrily. They were wrapped around a shaft. It was smooth and white and—oh God—was it a thigh bone?
“What did you do to Vanya?”
“She’s gone to where all good girls go.”
“Why did you bring that thing with you?”
“Who is that?”
“Don’t you mean what? Show your face, monster, then crawl back to whatever hell spawned you.” Hadrovel spat through the bars.
Curse Breaker: Books 1-4 Page 54
