by C. M. Gray
Pardigan walked towards the door, blinking invisible as he approached, conscious of the splashing sound of his footsteps. He glanced back to see the three children hiding back in the shadows and Mahra obviously resisting the impulse to run back and lift Nella in her arms; he smiled then turned his attention back to the door.
There didn't seem to be any sign of trap or warning bell, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with a strong feeling of impending doom, which made him wish he had some of Tarent's gift of perception. Shrugging it off as best he could, he glanced to the edges of the door searching for any concealed mechanism, and then up above at the looming stone figure of the bat, wings outstretched, mouth drawn back baring sharp teeth in a silent scream. It appeared set to fall upon him and he sat back heavily on the muddy ground, his stomach lurching in shock. 'Well I hope they don't have any of those in there,' he murmured. He got up and slowly turned the large brass doorknob, feeling his luck change as the door gently wafted open. Unfortunately, the smile soon dropped from his face as the odour of rotting corpses and corrupted magic escaped past him into the wet Mayhem night, forcing him once more to take a step back. Bile rose in his throat, but he still managed to hold his invisibility. He glanced back and saw the others had moved out and were following just a few steps behind, their faces registering revulsion as the smell crept out to meet them.
'Ugh, Source preserve us… bad eggs?' hissed Elisop holding his sleeve over his nose and mouth. 'I think… oh, my goodness… I think something died around here, horrible!' Nobody was arguing about the smell, they were all pulling a variety of faces and covering their mouths.
'I think a whole lot of things have died around here,' mumbled Pardigan, 'wait here.' Still feeling he was about to gag and fighting both his stomach and his better judgement, he slipped through the open door and into the temple.
The entrance hall was small and dimly lit, and he was immensely relieved to find he was alone. No strange priests or giant bats were waiting to greet him, so he allowed himself to relax a little. Directly opposite the doorway on a small table was a twisted candelabrum with three deep red candles burning. The strange ethereal light they produced offered the room a dim radiance, but they did little to suggest any detail; the room was icy cold. Two doors led to the interior, the larger of which was open. Crossing as silently as possible, Pardigan peered through and was rewarded with an all-enveloping darkness that revealed little except the feeling of a cavernous open space. A little disappointed, he moved on to the second door and gave the handle an experimental turn; it was locked. Quickly retracing his steps, he became visible and signalled for the others to come in. They huddled around him as he gave his whispered report.
'The good news is that I've not seen anybody yet… and no giant bats.'
'No giant…!' began Elisop, but Quint silenced him with a glance.
'Go on Pardigan.'
'Well the bad news is that it stinks even worse in here. The small door is locked, and this other door leads into what I think is the main hall, at least I think it does, it's very dark in there. If you all stay here, I'll go inside and have a better look.' With a nod of agreement from Quint, he blinked invisible again. With nothing better to do, the others followed and peeked around into the large black space, trying to see something in the gloom. It was dark, but something told their eyes that it wasn't completely dark while their noses told them this was definitely where the smells were coming from.
'I can't just wait for him, I'm going to have a look around in there, as well,' whispered Mahra, and moments later, a dark grey cat slipped silently into the darkness.
'Me too,' hissed Elisop but Quint caught him by the collar and hauled him back before he could take more than two steps.
'No, we wait here.'
Whilst in the form of a cat, Mahra could see well in darkness, in fact, all her senses were at their highest. Rows of benches were blocking any real view, but from the far distant side of the Chaos temple she could hear deep chanting coming from several voices. Closer to her, in the centre, she could just make out a dim red glow surrounding a central platform where six hooded figures crouched silent and unmoving as if in deep meditation.
Something heavy banged against her, and she just caught herself from letting out a meow of anger at being kicked, when the sound of a hushed curse told her the assailant was an invisible Pardigan who hadn't seen her.
'Let's go back to the others,' she whispered to the dark space that she presumed Pardigan must occupy.
When Pardigan came out of the hall a few moments later, the first thing he did was to look at her and smile.
'Sorry, didn't see you.'
'At least you didn't step on my tail. So what did you see?' asked Mahra, rubbing at her hip where she now had a bruise. 'Any idea what they're doing in the middle?'
'I saw them. It's a bit odd really. There are six people on the stage thing, but they aren't doing much of anything really. Oh, and there's some kind of fire burning in the ground. Maybe they're making a spell or something… and there are three other monks or priests or whatever they're called on the far side making a horrible noise, maybe Loras would call it singing, I don't know, but it was quite spooky.'
'Did you see any sign of the skulls?' asked Quint hopefully, but Pardigan shook his head.
'There's a big chest on the platform, they could be in there I suppose, but maybe we should have a look around further before getting to that? No point in disturbing any of that lot if there's not any need to, eh?'
Quint nodded. 'Can you open this door over here?' Pardigan smiled and went over to the locked door as Quint turned to Mahra, 'Maybe while we check in here, you can see if there are any other rooms off the main hall.' She nodded and changed, blurring into the shape of the cat and darted back into the chamber, just as the sound of a bolt clicking back alerted them that Pardigan had unlocked the second door. He pulled it open and Elisop and Quint slipped inside.
'I'm going back to the hall as well,' said Pardigan. 'Meet back here later, okay?' There was no answer. He glanced in and realised they were already gone. With a shrug, he closed the door and returned to the darkness.
The great empty chamber was a strange place. Although he couldn't hear anything or say what it was that bothered him exactly, it felt as if the space was filled with a vibration or sound that for some reason left him with an empty nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Being invisible wasn't helping much either. He felt exposed. It was as if some dark malevolent force was watching him, waiting for a reason to expose him to the Priests of Chaos. Darkness stretched upwards giving the impression of an endless void, and the chill fetid air didn't merely make him cold, it seemed to be slipping beneath his clothing like the icy fingers of death itself, stealing the warmth from his body. He shivered and tried to throw the sensation off.
Stepping to the left and keeping one eye on the silent group of figures in the centre, Pardigan began making his way around the perimeter, exploring the outer wall that felt damp and clammy beneath his outstretched hand.
There were several doors, most of which were locked, the ones that he could enter appeared to be dressing rooms with robes and cloaks set on hooks beside benches while a few others were storage rooms piled with crates and boxes filled with nothing but musty straw.
It was when he judged himself about a third of the way around the hall that he came to a wide passage stretching back into the temple complex. After a glance back into the hall, he set off to see where the passage led.
Heavy red candles were set every few paces, their strange oily light dancing languidly upon the polished surface of the walls. Several doors opened into sleeping chambers and storage rooms, but a quick, cursory search revealed they held little and certainly not the crystal skulls. He made his way further along towards the end of the passage, which remained lost in darkness. Some way in he stopped and drew a deep breath, glancing about uncertainly. Fear was tugging at his resolve, and he debated returning to the hall and leaving the temple altogether -
something was very unsettling about the place. It wasn't helping that covering the walls were a mosaic of glazed red tiles that made it appear as if the passage was running with blood, glistening in the flickering candlelight, it was disconcerting, and he could feel fear tugging at him, rising towards panic.
He reached out a hand to touch the wall's surface but drew back before his fingers touched as a distant agonised scream rent the air. His breath loud, heart pounding in his ears, Pardigan stretched his senses, wavering as he tried to hear more, but the scream had died leaving only the stillness of the chill passage to play with his mind. The scream had come from further along, not from behind him in the main hall where his friends were. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to move on. Within a few steps, he was stopped once again, this time by the sounds of raised voices and then the sounds of sobbing. Another scream filled the air, quickly followed by another, the terrible agony of the sound echoing down the passage from some way off. Stilling his trembling body, Pardigan tried to concentrate on moving further whilst remaining invisible, all the while fearing what he might find.
He tried several more doors leading off, peering quickly into storage rooms full of crates and bolts of dark cloth, a refectory and then a door already half open revealed a small library with three robed priests studying parchments by the light of the inevitable deep red candles, this was where the voices had come from. He was two steps into the room, ready to make a quick search, when the closest Chaos priest glanced around. Pardigan froze to the spot. The man's dark eyes bored into his, and he had to check mentally that his invisibility spell was still holding, he was sure it was. A trickle of sweat ran down his neck as the man's face screwed up in concentration.
'Brother?' The priest's voice was deep and dry as he turned fully to face Pardigan, folding back the hood of his cloak to reveal a shaven scalp and dead, sunken eyes. Pardigan held his breath and convinced himself not to move… yet!
'Brother, I sense… I sense something has entered the room. Can it be a spirit?' The man stood, his eyes moving slightly to the side. Pardigan realised that the man may well be sensing him, but couldn't see him. Holding his breath, he slowly edged back towards the door, his heart beating loudly in his ears.
'I sense nothing, Jazeen. You imagine too much,' muttered one of the other priests, his hood still covering his head. He appeared to be too engrossed in his studies to take his friend's worries seriously enough even to look up. 'Perhaps you need to sleep… or pay some penitence to the Great Spirit?'
'I have paid my dues today,' replied the first priest sullenly. He turned away, resuming his seat and the study of parchments. 'My studies have indeed been long, and it may be that I crave sleep. My mind plays tricks with me.' With a wash of relief, Pardigan withdrew from the room, deciding that the chances of the skulls being in the small library were slim and certainly not worth the risk of a real search.
I thought he could see me, too close… way too close. I shall have to be careful around the priests if they can sense me.
Regaining some small control over his fear, he crept on passing yet more doors. The few he checked appeared to be sleeping quarters, several of which housed snoring priests. The passage came to an abrupt dark end. Set in the furthest darkest corner was a narrow door that had been left slightly ajar. Pardigan pushed gently, and it swung inwards revealing a stone staircase descending into the lower levels of the temple. Placing one foot carefully upon the top step he made to descend, but was halted by a warm gust of foul air that suddenly wafted upwards followed by yet another terrible scream that all but drove the remaining courage from him. He was physically shaking, his resolve wavering as his foot hovered over the second step. The sensation of wanting just to drop the invisibility spell, turn and run as fast as he could for the exit was almost… almost overwhelming. Quint and Mahra would certainly tell him to return - whatever was at the bottom of these steps sounded like it belonged in some dark nightmare and was almost certainly not a treasure room, but that scream had been full of pain and anguish. Walking away without seeing if he could do anything simply wasn't something he could live with. This moment of indecision would live with him for all his days.
Pulling his cloak up to cover his nose and mouth, he cautiously descended the staircase.
* * *
'Loras!'
Loras spun around at the warning in time to see a huge grey-haired warrior, hurl himself over the wall of stones they were using as a shelter. He tried to lift his hands to conjure a cushion of air, but cold and fatigue had taken its toll, slowing him too much. The spell was sufficient to turn the warrior's blade aside, which struck the ground beside him casting rock fragments as the warrior ploughed into him, driving the air from his body with a painful, 'Oof!' cracking his head against the stone.
A few moments later, consciousness claimed him once more, and he convulsed as he tried to suck air into his lungs. The weight on top of him was still on top of him and was moving, but it didn't feel like the warrior was trying to stand up, rather that someone was trying to pull the dead weight of his body away. Closing his eyes he checked himself for a wound … he ached all over, but there was no single point of pain beyond the bump on his head.
'Loras! Loras are you alright?'
Snapping open his eyes, he gazed up and saw Tarent staring down at him, concern creasing his friend's face. Then he noticed Tarent's sword dripping fresh blood.
'You got him!'
'Yes, Loras, I got him. But there are plenty more, so if you're recovered enough, please get up and help.' Tarent turned, picked up his bow, glanced over the rock and quickly fired two arrows.
Loras heaved himself onto his feet and glanced about. One of Bartholomew's guards was pulling the dead warrior out of the way, and Magician Falk was sending bolts of blue lightning stabbing over the rocks.
'Not dead after ell eh!' said the Magician, glancing across at Loras. 'We appear to have forced them back a little now, but there are just too many. There has to be fifty warriors still out there.' A flurry of arrows drifted over the top towards them, only to be casually deflected by the elderly Magician with a wave of his hand. He turned to Loras. 'We could do with your help here my friend.'
Still feeling the effects of his clash with the warrior, Loras studied the bleak terrain in front of them, and the area they were holed up in.
They were backed against the cliff, which was one good thing in their favour; they couldn't be attacked from behind. A short distance in front of their rocky shelter was the road, and beyond this the hill dipped away over rocky terrain where Morgasta's warriors were now entrenched.
When the two groups spotted each other just a short time ago, the Barbarians had immediately attacked, driving their horses on through the snow and mud, yelling battle cries as they swung their swords about their heads. Tarent had immediately seen they were outnumbered and ordered the wagon and horses off the road towards the outcropping of rocks close to the cliff. They barely had time to set up their defences before the warriors had thrown themselves into the attack, hooting and screaming with unrestrained excitement.
To find what appeared to be a relatively unguarded wagon out here close to the Massif, was surely a gift from the Chaos god himself, or so they had thought. The first of them found out the hard way how wrong they had been.
Setting a wall of air to their left so as not to be taken by surprise, Loras turned his attention to the rocky patch opposite where he could see several warriors peeking across at them from the cover of their own rock shield. As he watched, a warrior stood, aimed and fired an arrow directly at him, but he ignored him, trusting for the moment that Magician Falk would deflect the arrow away. His face set into a frown of concentration and the falling snow immediately began to thicken and the gusting wind became even stronger, howling about the rocks sending flurries of snow sweeping around the whole area. Everyone crouched down for protection while Loras remained standing alone with his cloak flapping about him, head bared to the gale as he directed the for
ce of the storm towards the crouching warriors opposite.
The air about Loras and the company became still, whereas, a short distance away across the rocks, snow was being driven by a punishing gale, covering the sheltering warriors and freezing them in an icy cocoon. Those further away shouted for their comrades to retreat, but it was for nothing; within the blizzard, the only sound was the howl of the wind.
At last the tension relaxed, and the wind began to drop. Loras slumped down, just as both sides were rising from their positions, unsure of what they had witnessed. The weather had at least returned to what passed for normality this side of the Bolt, but what confronted the shocked observers wasn't at all normal. The rocks, where more than half the force of fierce battle hardened warriors had made their stand, was now inhabited by an army of frozen statues, caught in the screams of their final moments, in attitudes of terror and surrender. It was not a lesson that the remaining Barbarians learned anything from. Arrows and insults started to fly once more and Magician Falk went back to deflecting them.
'We're still stuck here,' muttered Tarent as he handed a flask of water to Loras. The young Magician took it gratefully then fumbled with the top to get it open. The water was warm from where Tarent had kept it tucked next to his skin to keep it from freezing. Loras drank then handed it back.
'That was exhausting. Anything to do with the weather always seems to take all my energy, but don't worry, I'll think of something else soon.'
* * *
Chapter 18
Trapped
Pardigan descended the staircase feeling as if time had slowed and he were caught in a dream. There must be some magical force at work because the air felt thick, almost solid, the further he came down the steps. Part of his mind, probably the more sensible part he reflected, was still screaming at him to turn and leave, while his more stubborn nature tentatively reached a foot down to grope for the next step, urging him to go just a little further. The rising atmosphere was hot and fetid, carrying with it the stinking breath of rotting corruption that was wafting up from some deep, inner place at the heart of the temple. Pardigan was suddenly struck with the possibility that there may be some huge demonic presence lurking below, and the stink of its exhaled breath was what rose up the stairs washing back over him - he shuddered at the thought. The steps were treacherously slick, the walls running with greasy condensation; this really wasn't somewhere Pardigan wanted to be and to make matters worse, he now really needed to pee.
