by D. M. Almond
“Who?”
“The Shadow Lord. He is watching always, watching and waiting for his time to come again. It is soon now, the next Rising.”
Corbin walked with care to the well, like he was trying not to frighten away a forest creature. He feared that at any moment his mother might flee again. “Mother, come with me. I can take you out of this place.”
“I like it here,” she said, sounding confused. “This is my home.”
“This is no home for you,” Corbin said. “There are dark things here, things that should not be.”
Melinda slowly looked up into his eyes. Tears streaked her cheeks, and Corbin had to fight hard not to weep himself. He had never imagined he would see his mother again, not even in a million years, and here they were together, reunited once more. It must have been fate’s hand that had guided him on this path to this happy meeting.
“Oh, Mother,” Corbin cried, falling to his knees and resting his head in her lap beside the fountain. “How I missed you. It’s been so hard since you left. So many bad things have happened. Fal, Logan’s hand, Riverbell, the surface...oh, you have to see what’s become of our cousins on the surface. It’s all too horrible to bear.”
“There, there, dear boy,” Melinda said, her melodic voice soothing his pain. She stroked his black hair and cheeks tenderly. “It’s okay now, we’re together again. Don’t worry about the silly outside world. Momma’s going to build you a wall.”
“Huh?” Something about the statement jarred his mind. Corbin pulled back and looked up into her eyes.
A crooked hag with beady black eyes stared back at him, licking her blistered lips. She gripped his face with the long talons of a vulture and grinned with milky grey teeth.
Corbin tried to pull away, but he had not noticed the black vines which had crept out from the murky water of the broken fountain. They latched themselves around his throat and tightened, pulling him back so he was pinned against the fountain’s edge.
The hag leaned over him, leering delightedly. “No need to struggle, boy. It’ll be over before you know it.”
A creature squeezed past the shattered doorframe in a crouch. Once its whole body was in the library, the flesh golem stood to its full height, which was downright intimidating for Logan to behold, and stretched out its arms. He suddenly wished very much that he still possessed the Aegis. The golem’s fists were the size of his head.
The sound of the flesh golem’s roar was enough to make Logan’s knees feel wobbly. Unfortunately for him, the skeleton he battled held no such fear and continued its assault. Looking between the felsh golem and skeleton, he stumbled backward over a fallen chair, landing on his back. He scurried to his side, grasping for Gandiva. The skeleton stomped on one of his legs, and Logan cried out.
He pulled back and bucked on the floor, doing whatever he could to stay in the fight. His leg hooked the monster’s shin hard enough to trip it face-first into the marble floor. Gandiva was within reach now, and he grasped desperately for her.
From the other side of the library, the flesh golem howled in pain. Logan could only guess that Nero had pierced it with a fresh volley of arrows.
He turned around with his weapon in hand as the skeleton was rising and flicked his wrist, snapping open the boomerang. The skeleton retrieved its rusty sword and turned to face him just as Logan let Gandiva fly. It tore right through the skeleton’s jaw, sending the top of its skull rolling over its shoulder.
“Soup’s on,” Bipp snarled at the skeleton he had brought to one knee. He used the frying pan like a club, bashing in the side of his enemy’s face. The skeleton’s lone eye flared a deep orange and it wailed, a sound Bipp was sure would give him nightmares. He battered at it again, but the skeleton blocked the blow with a lifted forearm. The solid cooking utensil shattered its radius and ulna with such force that its arm snapped backward, slapping the skeleton in the face. Bipp was readying another swing when Nero’s boot heel came down hard over the back of the creature’s head, caving it in from above.
“Hey, that was my kill,” Bipp complained, though he was more than happy to be done with the fight.
Nero pointed at the incoming flesh golem. The floor of the library shook as it charged for them.
“And stay down,” Logan hollered at the skeleton he had just decapitated. He turned, looking for Bipp, and shared his horror upon spotting the golem again.
A flicker of movement caught Bipp’s eye, and he snapped his attention to the ceiling. A blurred shape was racing across the library mirror…heading right for Logan’s flank.
“Behind you!” Bipp shouted.
Logan turned just in time to see a ghoul with grasping claws heading right for him. He had to throw his entire body over a nearby table to avoid it and landed on his side.
Bipp could not watch, forced to face the flesh golem who towered over him and Nero. The android grabbed Bipp’s collar and wrenched him out of the path of the behemoth’s smashing fist. The marble tile splintered where the flesh golem hit, and it roared. Bipp thought that if the abomination’s strength did not kill him, surely the bile-encouraging stench of rotting flesh permeating from its poorly stitched torso would.
He yelped when a skeleton ran around the golem, lunging with a spear at Nero’s midsection. It was Bipp’s turn to move his friend out of the way, and he did so with style—or more accurately, force. Bipp put his head down like a charging bull and rammed Nero in the belly, knocking him aside. The spear clipped his ear, and the angry gnome immediately spun around with his pan out, breaking the shaft of the spear in half with a solid swipe.
The skeleton was just trying to pull back when Bipp unexpectedly ran between the flesh golem’s legs. He came around the other side of the towering hulk, winding up behind the skeleton, and crushed the back of its spine with the flat of his pan. As the bones spilled to the floor, he hopped on its back and brought the pan down in a furious barrage of curses and metal gongs, until finally the light faded from the skeleton’s eyes.
“There’s something you don’t see every day,” Thorgar guffawed from the entrance of the secret tunnel. Bipp’s heart soared at seeing the ancient king coming to their rescue, slapping his glass axe in an open palm.
“They complained about my cooking,” Bipp said, scrambling off the skeleton and running back toward Nero, who was trying to lure the flesh golem away from their exposed friends.
“Glad you could join in on the fun,” Logan yelled from the other side of the aisle where he was desperately fending off a pair of gnome ghouls, using a chair like he was an animal tamer.
“Would you stop losing your weapons?” Bipp yelled, seeing the Falian’s boomerang under the table.
Thorgar laughed heartily, ready for battle and enjoying his descendant’s unconventional tactics. “Come on, boys, lets show ‘em how it’s done,” he shouted.
Thorgar roared loud enough to draw the flesh golem’s attention as he and five other warriors charged into the room. The behemoth sensed the king was a formidable foe and at once turned to face him, but no undead creature could match the speed of the infamous Thorgar, not when he was fully enraged. The king jumped higher than Logan would have expected any gnome capable, landing squarely on the flesh golem’s back, where he proceeded to hack away large chunks of flesh.
“We’ve got the golem,” one of the warriors shouted to Bipp as it hacked at the monster’s ankle. “Help your friend and cover our flank from the Necromancer’s minions.”
More of the fiends had rushed into the room, a combination of skeletons and ghouls. Bipp and Nero quickly doubled back, racing to provide Logan some back up.
A ghoul swiped its clawed hand and tore apart one of the chair legs Logan used as a shield. Bipp slid under the table and kicked Gandiva toward him, while Nero, who had run out of arrows, plucked a rusty sword from the ground. One of the ghouls turned to face the android, and he flung the weapon head over handle. It buried deep into the ghoul’s face, splitting it from eye to crown. The ghoul fell down dead, shaking out its
last convulsion.
Logan threw the chair at the ghoul attacking him and bent down to retrieve Gandiva. The flesh-eating monster rushed in, tearing the chair apart in midair and groping for Logan’s body. Before it made it close enough to sink its drooling teeth into him, Bipp smashed its ankle with his pan. The force of it knocked the deranged creature off-kilter, enough so that it did not even blink as Gandiva slammed into its chest, throwing it back and pinning it to a bookshelf. Books spilled to the floor as the stack wobbled from the impact.
In the overhead mirror, Logan could see three more skeletons coming from behind the shelf, their reflections dark smudges of movement. “Charge with me!” he screamed, not waiting to explain himself as he threw his shoulder into the bookshelf. Bipp followed suit, and Nero came behind. The bookshelf toppled over right on top of the incoming enemies.
It crashed loudly to the floor, books spinning like missiles in every direction. Logan choked on the cloud of dust around them and worked hard to get back on his feet amidst the broken shelves. He stood on top of the remains of the bookcase and searched for some sign of Bipp. A pile of broken books shifted and the gnome coughed, shaking pages and covers off of him.
Nero was already on his feet, and he pointed to Logan’s side. “Watch out!”
Logan recoiled as fingers cut across the air around his calf, blindly groping for flesh. One of the skeletons was still animated under the rubble. Bipp was already on it, half of a book still clinging to his forehead. He brought his pan down once, twice, three times, crushing the skeleton’s exposed face. The light faded from its eyes, and he laughed triumphantly.
Metal scraped across marble as one of King Thorgar’s warriors slid toward them. He had just taken a nasty blow from the flesh golem, one Bipp was not sure he would ever get up from.
The king was no longer on the golem’s back, but he and his other warriors were still putting up a Hel of a fight. Bipp gasped when the golem jumped straight up in the air. The floor shook as it landed on top of a gnome, crushing him to death. The quaking also threw the king and other warriors off balance. The golem immediately turned to grab a table with both hands and fling it across the floor. Thorgar lowered his head and brought his battle-axe down hard, cutting through the rotted piece of furniture as splinters of it flew past on either side.
For a split second, Logan saw Thorgar’s rage flicker to wide-eyed horror as he saw the flesh golem barreling toward him. Thorgar had fallen for its ruse, and the golem caught him with an uppercut so powerful that the king was lifted off his feet and sent flying in the air. He hit the ground hard enough to dent his shoulder pauldron.
For a moment it seemed that the king might rise again. His shaking arms flexed as he tried to push himself up. But then his eyes rolled back in his head, and his arms gave out. The king flattened out on the floor, knocked unconscious.
Logan turned toward his unmoving brother in a state of panic. “Corbin, it’s time to wake up!”
Chapter 22
In some small corner of Corbin Walker’s mind, he heard his brother’s pleas, though they were far away, only a hint of being spoken at all. My brother is calling to me, but I’ll never speak to him again, part of him thought as he stared into the face of death.
The hag cackled gleefully and stroked his cheek with the tip of a talon. Try as he might, he could not move. The pulsing vines that had wrapped around his neck gripped his arms and torso as well, locking him firmly in place against the crumbling fountain.
He could not imagine how he had ever thought this wicked creature was his mother. Her teeth dripped a black liquid as she spoke. “Oh, do stop struggling so. It will only make this take longer.” She reached into the folds of the torn rags clinging to her dirty body, which was something between a hunchbacked old woman and a vulture. She was searching her pockets for something. The hag stopped and turned to him with a wicked grin. “Ah, here it is.”
Corbin flinched when she pulled out a dagger. The blade of it was a jagged, oily stone and her greedy talons clutched it so tightly that the hair on her knuckles stood up.
“N-no, s-stop,” Corbin tried to plead, struggling feebly against the overpowering vines.
“Stop? Why should I do that?” Her voice cracked, growing deep and wet like bullfrog. “I’m hungry, boy.” The way she drew out the word made Corbin want to scream.
“P-please…I shouldn’t even be here.” Corbin trembled and pulled his head back as far as he could manage while she pressed the tip of the stone blade up to his eye, letting it hover there, too close for him to focus on.
“Shouldn’t have come to my home, then, sweet child of man,” she taunted in a high-pitched voice. She coughed up some phlegm, and her voice shifted to the bullfrog. “Well, I should think not, you little runt. Leave it to a fool to enter the Shadow Lord’s domain and expect nothing to happen. There’s payments to be had, there are, and I’m ready for my due. Now what should I suck on first? These eyes look juicy.”
Despite himself, Corbin squealed when she made a slurping sound and pressed the blade against his eyeball. The hag backed off before the knife penetrated and scowled at him.
“Little rat,” she croaked, “hurting my ears with that mind magic.”
Corbin did not have time to ponder her meaning, as the hag swiftly shoved a hand past his lips, wrangling hold of his tongue as if it were a sneaky worm.
Squeezing his tongue, she forced it out past his teeth and drooled black liquid. “Mm, let’s start with your tongue. That’ll shut you up so I can really enjoy the good parts.”
“Balius Mor’a’kith Douth’veldin Exil!” a familiar voice bellowed.
Corbin’s eyes stung when a brilliant flash of light washed over the area. The hag screamed pitifully and scurried away like a spider, trying desperately to cover her face with her bony arms. Corbin felt waves of nauseating pain as the vines loosened and blood flowed freely to his brain. He did not hesitate to grab the vine and pull it away from his neck so that he could bite down hard on it. The vine was hard and strong as bark, but pieces of it tore away in his mouth, and he spit them to the side. The bitter taste of rotten apples lingered as he bit it again.
Isaac held his staff out wide, the light of it already being swallowed by the sweltering darkness around him, which was eager to amend the imbalance. Alma rushed around Isaac’s side, holding the holy symbol of Ohm before her and screaming out her own incantation in ancient Gnomish.
The hag tried to retreat, but the small priestess was on her like a badger, pressing the symbol against the horrible creature’s face. Where the sign of Ohm touched the mottled skin, it sizzled and smoked. The hag howled miserably, scrambling to get away and knocking Alma back with her bony elbows.
“Back to the pits of Hel with you, foul succubus,” Isaac shouted, chasing after the hag with his ring pointed toward her. A flash of searing fire arced from the ring, setting the back of the hag’s dress aflame. Corbin was just pulling free from the vines when she jumped face-first into the murky waters of the fountain.
He scrambled backward on hands and heels away from it, fully expecting to see the hag thrashing about in the pool. Isaac watched the water with the orange fires of his eyes blazing while Alma ran over to help Corbin to his feet.
“Are you well?” she asked, full of maternal concern.
Corbin touched the red rope burns left by the vine. His fingertips pressed the spot on his neck, and it stung. He winced hard. “Where did she go?” he wheezed, eyeing the still waters of the cracked fountain.
“Back to her pit,” Isaac growled, “to heal and wait for some other fool to pass her way.”
The way the mage said fool stung Corbin more than the pain around his neck. He felt like the biggest one in all the ages, to have run off so in this shadowland, thinking his mother could actually be here.
“Isaac…I’m so sorry,” he said. The act of speaking burned his throat, and he fell into a fit of hacking coughs. Alma patted his back soothingly.
“The damage is alr
eady done,” Isaac said with zero sympathy. “By now every denizen of the Gralok must know we are here.”
“My mother…that thing made itself look like my mother,” Corbin groaned in shame.
“It’s this place,” Alma said. “It does things to you, messes with your mind.”
“We need to move,” Isaac pressed, heading for the tight alleyway. “They’ll be on us if we don’t put some distance between us and this place.”
Corbin rubbed his bruised throat and quickly followed the mage, gripping Isaac’s hand once more as Alma held the mage’s other.
The atmosphere in the Gralok had changed. Sounds of weeping and moaning no longer came from all around. He did not know if that was a good thing or an ill omen. Either way, his legs pumped hard to keep up with Isaac. The mage looked worried indeed, and Corbin found it disturbing to see him so shaken.
His face collided with Isaac’s shoulder as the mage stopped dead in his tracks. Corbin looked around him to see why they had stopped. They were back in the wider corridor, which was filled with grey mist. In either direction down the path, at least a dozen lost souls stood waiting for them. Hollowly glowing eyes peered out at them, and gaping mouths opened and shut, waiting for their prey.
Corbin’s heart was pounding as hard a drum, and his skin was covered with a cold sweat. He suddenly felt very naked and helpless without his voulge, which was back in Ul’kor, far out of reach. “Wh-what are we going to do now?” he wheezed.
Isaac stood taller than Corbin ever remembered. He let go of Corbin’s hand and grasped the white staff, slamming the base of it against the floor. A warm wind picked up from somewhere behind them, fluttering the mage’s robes and bringing the sound of golden, singing voices along with it, each note like the bending of a willow tree in the autumn rain.
“Now?” Isaac said in a strong voice. “We fight for our undying souls.”
And with that the mage screamed and charged into the swelling ranks of the damned.
