Barek rode back to the head of the White Order, and it was then that Shader realized he had somehow taken command during the fight and had allowed Ioana through. Not only that, but he had saved Rhiannon—saved Shader—at the expense of one of his own men.
“Into the templum,” Ioana commanded.
Shader picked up his longsword and followed Rhiannon and Maldark back towards the entrance. Ioana brought up the rear, the death-knights keeping their distance from the Monas. Shader nodded to Barek as he passed, but the lad didn’t seem able to meet his gaze as he ordered his remaining men to dismount. Ioana held back the undead long enough for the surviving White Knights to make their way into the templum, leaving their horses abandoned outside.
Agna set about staunching the bleeding from Rhiannon’s shoulder, whilst Velda fussed over the worst of Maldark’s many wounds. Shader lay heavily on the ground, wincing at the pain in his ribs. His fingers curled tightly around the statue in his pocket and he accepted its power without thinking. Suddenly his body was infused with blissful warmth and he sat up refreshed and painless. Cadris looked at him in amazement. Gaston raised an eyebrow then went to retrieve his sword from the floor beside Rhiannon. A crow cawed from somewhere in the distance, or maybe Shader was imagining it. He shook his head and climbed to his feet, returning both swords to their scabbards.
The knights of the White Order crowded inside and looked about in bewilderment. Barek raised his arms for silence and tried to reassert some sort of discipline.
Ioana paused in the doorway to cast one last glance over the hellish cavalry milling around the porch. She backed into the templum, but as she did so she seemed to glimpse something behind the mass of undead. She slammed the doors and pressed herself against them, fighting for breath.
“Mater?” Shader took her hands and led her from the door as Maldark slid the bolts across.
Ioana merely waved towards the rear of the templum. Her fear was contagious, and soon everyone was edging back into the nave. Barek ordered some of the knights to help move the sick to the sacristy, whilst Gaston simply glowered at him. Shader took the statue from his pocket, determined to use its power on Rhiannon and Maldark, when suddenly a dreadful chill pervaded the templum and the doors began to warp and buckle.
THE DEATH OF DEACON SHADER
Shadrak was lucky to be alive, he supposed, but at what cost?
According to his mental map, it should be just past the next intersection. He scanned the silver ceiling with its blue lights and found the symbols he was looking for. Running the palm of his hand over a section of the left wall, he was greeted by a sharp hiss. A panel slid open to reveal metal rungs set back a couple of feet behind the wall.
He hurried up the ladder and crawled into a crumbling and foul smelling tunnel that was lit only by moldy phosphorescence. There was a ledge a few feet above him, cold air spilling down and giving him pause. He became aware of the blood rushing in his ears, the rapid pounding in his ribcage. He flicked his eyes in every direction and held his breath as he listened.
Nothing.
As he reached for a handhold, Shadrak’s arm trembled. His knees went slack and he felt the urge to turn about and run.
“I am Shadrak the Unseen,” he whispered. “Killer, hunter, the knife in the dark.”
He gripped a jutting rock and jabbed a foot into an indent, pulling himself upwards until he hung from the ledge. Swinging one leg over the edge, he rolled onto a flagstone floor.
There was an iron grill set into the low ceiling. Reaching up, Shadrak tugged until it came away in his hands and he dropped it clanging to the floor. He sprang, catching hold of the sides of the opening and pulling himself through.
If he was right, he should be in the crypt beneath the sanctuary.
From somewhere up above he heard a great chorus of screams and began to shake once more. He shut his eyes, fighting for calm. Was he losing it? He’d never felt anything like this before. He was like a child frightened of the dark. And so he did what he’d have done as a boy: focused on the one face that had brought him comfort, the one person he could always turn to.
Kadee’s eyes gleamed their warmth from the brown skin of her face. Her gray hair was braided with strips of leather and sparkling quartz. Her mouth was moving silently and he strained to hear her speak, knowing all the while she’d never utter another word.
Shadrak’s eyes opened and he gritted his teeth.
“Anger, not tears,” he told himself, pulling up his hood and sprinting for the stone steps that led to a trap in the ceiling.
* * *
The doors lasted longer than Shader expected. The wood blistered and cracked, the frame smoldered, and the bolts screeched in protest.
Barek’s lads dragged the pallet-beds with the patients still lying on them to the sanctuary and set up a protective ring around them. There can’t have been many more than thirty knights left. Ioana forced a smile for their benefit, and Gaston approached them, head down, sword trailing behind, scraping the floor. Barek clapped him on the shoulder and made room for him.
The priests huddled in front of the altar, a few paces behind the knights. Shader and Maldark stood shoulder to shoulder halfway down the nave, eyes riveted to the straining and groaning doors. The surrounding wall shuddered and the doors buckled further, the wood warping to an alarming degree. Thin black tendrils slid beneath and around the sides of the frame, feeling their way to the center where they began to knot and intertwine. Within moments the doors were completely obscured by the writhing feelers, which suddenly tensed and then sagged as the doors finally gave way. The tendrils relaxed their hold, allowing the shards of the doors to clatter to the ground, and there in the doorway roiled a seething formless horror. Heads sprouted forth from a central mass of gelatinous blackness, eyes rolling, teeth grinding until they burst and reformed as legs, arms, or thick lengths of tentacle dripping with slime.
The abomination’s bulk filled the entrance and radiated such terror that Shader’s body sought to run, or collapse, until the warmth of the statue flowed once more and gave him the strength to stand firm. Maldark, likewise, withstood the fear that emanated from the beast and hefted his war-hammer with a look upon his face that was something between repulsion and anger.
Behind them, the cordon of knights turned away in panic. The priests scattered and sought the nearest exit. Even the plague victims upon their beds started to drag themselves towards the sacristy and the link corridor to the residences in order to get as far from the aberration as possible.
The creature roared—a loathsome gurgling susurration that immediately halted all activity as the priests, knights, and the sick screamed in absolute horror.
Shader’s arms and legs were trembling as he fumbled with the gladius. The blade left its scabbard, bursting with golden fire that suffused throughout the templum. Strength and courage such as he had never known flooded his body.
The monster lurched forward and those still in the sanctuary fought and screamed in their desperation to get away. Shader put his free hand on Maldark’s shoulder. The dwarf was shaking violently.
“Get the others out. I’ll hold it here.”
“‘Tis the Dweller,” Maldark said, his face ashen. “There is nothing thou canst do.”
“I can give you time. Now go!”
Shader risked a look over his shoulder as Maldark backed away towards the sanctuary. Ioana was ushering the others into the link corridor when the flagstone behind the altar shifted and a head appeared from the crypt beneath. Shader caught a glimpse of a pallid face and pinkish eyes before a small man in a black cloak clambered up.
“Quickly,” the albino shouted.
As fast as they could, the priests and knights began to lower the sick to the relative safety of the crypt. Gaston was staring at the newcomer, sword shaking and suddenly looking too heavy for him.
The Dweller roared again and surged forward.
“Deacon!” Rhiannon screamed, as the bubbling black mass bore dow
n upon him.
“Get out!” Shader shot her a despairing look. “Everybody get out!”
The Dweller belched and emitted a noxious vapor that almost overpowered him. He lashed out with the gladius and an arc of fire followed the blade, searing into vile black flesh. The Dweller hissed and belched again, and this time Shader was blinded by a cloud of soot. Instinctively he clutched at the statue in his pocket and accepted its power. The blindness passed, but even as it did he was ensnared by countless tentacles that squeezed cruelly about his legs and torso, cutting into the flesh with serrated edges. As he hacked at the sinuous limbs, the gladius slicing and burning, Shader craned his neck and saw that the evacuation was almost complete. Only Ioana, Rhiannon, Maldark, and, surprisingly, Gaston remained.
Maldark took a step forward.
“Flee!” Shader bellowed as he cut his way free of the tentacles and leapt at the central mass hacking and slashing, a pattern of flame left in the wake of his sword. No matter how many times he cut and burned the demon, its oily flesh simply reformed. He drew the longsword and redoubled his efforts, but the mundane steel merely rebounded from the Dweller’s hide. This was a fight Shader knew he couldn’t win. All he could do was delay the inevitable.
Gaston ran towards him, eyes wide with fear, sword arm trembling. Maldark caught hold of Gaston’s arm and spun him in the direction of the crypt, but not before Shader glimpsed the tears spilling down his face.
More tentacles fastened around Shader’s boots and tugged him towards a cavernous maw. The gladius sliced through black flesh, affording Shader enough time to glance over his shoulder to see Maldark climbing down to the crypt, herding the others before him.
Shader launched a frantic attack in the hope of wounding the demon enough for him to make his own escape whilst it reformed. He hewed great gouges into the ever changing form and jumped backwards, batting aside a lashing tentacle with his longsword. He was about to turn and run when there was a sudden numbing sensation in his back. He stood motionless for a moment, blinking with shock, and then dropped to his knees as the Dweller surged over him.
* * *
Cadman watched Shadrak pull his stiletto from Shader’s back and slip behind the altar as the demon smothered the fallen knight. Backstabbing little runt. That could have been me. Could have been me. Could have been… Oh my giddy—
The Dweller exploded in a flash of amber and gold. The blast roared towards the shattered doors, smashing Cadman from his feet. Shreds of shadow shot past his face amidst a terrible screeching.
Callixus!
A black cloud descended over Cadman’s eyes. He tried to fan it away, but his hands wouldn’t move; suddenly felt he needed to breathe, but couldn’t. One, two, three. Oh cripes. Oh cripes, no! The dark fog was inside his skull, eating away at what was left of his brain, rolling down to consume his innards. Oblivion! Not me! Not meee!
Cadman sat bolt upright. Someone was screaming. Someone was… Oh, it’s me. He shook the fug from his head and tried to orientate himself. Misty black ribbons swirled beside him, coalescing into Callixus. Cadman followed the burning glare of the wraith’s eyes, saw movement in the templum as the smoke began to clear.
Shadrak crept back to Shader’s body, bent over the face as if listening for breath, then felt around the throat.
Probably as skilled at detecting death as I am.
Callixus drifted past Cadman’s shoulder, heading down the nave. Shadrak glanced up, then hurriedly rummaged through Shader’s pockets. He pulled out something dark and sinuous. Cadman squinted. That had to be the statue, the body of Eingana. It was still smoking, throwing off sparks of amber. Callixus drew his black blade, raised it to swing, but Shadrak managed to thrust the statue into a pouch and throw himself into a twisting backflip in one fluid motion. As Callixus struck air, the assassin darted behind the altar and seemed to be swallowed up by the ground.
Callixus started back down the aisle, eyes like twin red suns.
“No, you idiot!” Cadman’s toes clattered on stone as he stormed towards him. Bloody illusion had gone again, and with it every last scrap of security. “The statue! Get the sodding statue!”
The wraith sped back to the altar and dispersed through the floor.
Cadman sagged and nearly fell. He lacked the strength to resume his fatness. Lacked the strength to go on. What have you done, you stupid, stupid fool? Keep to the shadows, didn’t I always say? Never do anything rash. Just lie low and endure. But now someone else had the power of Eingana, and goodness only knew what that meant.
Cadman dragged himself as far as Shader’s body, which was lying in a steadily growing pool of blood. He almost felt sorry for the knight. You had to admit, his final stand had been somewhat valiant. But what chance had he had against the Dweller, not to mention a knife in the back? Comes to us all, in time.
Cadman knelt down on creaking joints and closed Shader’s eyes; didn’t think he could stand back up again. Something glinted, and he felt the distinct thrum of power. It was coming from Shader’s gladius. He reached for the hilt, but a jolt of pain shot up his arm.
Blasted thing zapped me!
He scowled at the sword, and he was sure it would have done the same to him, if it had eyes. Something about it made him feel extremely uncomfortable. Dirty, even.
He crawled away from it on his hands and knees, but stopped as he felt a different sensation.
Heat radiated from the pocket of his tattered robe, burning away the frost in his bones. Well, it couldn’t hurt, could it? If Eingana wanted to help him in his weakness, who was he to refuse? Just a quick dribble of power and he’d be right as—
He started at a squawk and slipped in a patch of blood, landing on his bony arse. He looked every which way, heart slapping crazily at his ribcage like there was no tomorrow.
Nothing. There was nothing there.
“Caw.”
There it was again, only this time closer, more urgent. He could almost feel something breathing down the back of his neck. The ice in Cadman’s bones chilled a few hundred degrees, sent its necrotic fingers around his heart. The walls of the templum closed in around him, the roof starting to drop like the lid of a tomb.
Breathe, you silly old sod. Breathe.
Suddenly the emptiness of the Void was looking like an old friend in comparison to the mess he’d got himself into. Well, maybe that was overstating it. He winced at the tightening in his stomach—psychosomatic of course, like the ghosting the amputees had reported to him back on the front. Back when… Back…
Too many chances, blast it. Too many actions. Didn’t I always say it would come to this? In for a penny, in for a pound, then. Too late to back out now.
His fingers closed around the amber pieces, absorbing their warmth, accepting their comfort. So what if some antediluvian bird cawed every time he used their power. It wasn’t as if anything bad had happened. Just needed to act fast, that’s what. Decide what to do with all that power and do it quick, before there were consequences.
The pieces throbbed in his hands, sent stabs of heat into his brain.
“Show me.” Cadman pressed the eye and the fang together, amber radiating from their contact like a miniature sun. “Show me what to do!”
Blistering flames filled his skull, burning away the fog and indecision. Clear as day, he saw it all laid out in front of him. The Dweller oozing malice, returning to claim its due. A blast of amber so powerful it seemed to burn the world. A face so bloodless it could have been made of wax. The most unnatural eyes of electric blue locked onto him, scrutinizing him as if from the other end of a microscope. Banks of screens flickering between images, row upon row of bat-winged demons staring at them with sightless eyes. Something dark dropping from the sky—a monstrous black spider, legs curling around him. No, not legs, they were fingers. Not a spider, then. A hand, gripping, squeezing, crushing.
“What have I done?” Cadman sent the eye and the fang clattering to the floor. “What have I done?”
Too
late, old boy. Far too late.
The amber glow cast long shadows about the templum and momentarily lit up Shader’s dead face, formed a halo around his head like the Ancients’ paintings of the Luminaries, or whatever they’d been called back then.
And then Shader was lost to the dark as Eingana’s light faded and died. For the briefest of moments, Cadman was back in his cot, tiny hands grasping through the bars, tears streaming down his cheeks. “No, Mama. Please! Don’t turn out the light!”
He picked up the amber pieces and shoved them deep in his pockets, turned and headed back outside like a diver striking for the surface.
In for a penny—
Shut up!
In for a—
“I said shut…” Cadman took a deep breath and finished in a whisper. “Shut up.”
Outside, the knights of the Lost waited for him like his faithful children. Only they weren’t. They hated him, just as much as Callixus hated him. Couldn’t say he blamed them, either.
As he walked towards them they parted, revealing his black carriage at the end of the Domus Tyalae, the driver standing with the door open, chimney-stack hat held to his chest. He’d never done that before, and it quite put the frighteners on Cadman. He stepped inside and the driver shut the door behind him. For one very nasty moment, Cadman had the distinct feeling he was being taken to his own funeral. As the carriage clattered away, he put his head out of the window. The driver’s back was silhouetted against the silvery moon, creating the impression he was frozen in ice. He must have sensed Cadman watching and twisted in the seat to look over his shoulder. Crimson flame flickered from his eyes and he began to chuckle. He turned back to face the road ahead, and the chuckle bubbled up into a full and throaty laugh.
The story continues in Shader, Book Two: Best Laid Plans
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank my editor, Harry Dewulf, for the excellent comments about language and his attention to the minutiae.
Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels Page 166
