Death without Direction: A Modern Sword and Sorcery Serial (A Battleaxe and a Metal Arm Book 1)

by Samuel Fleming

  Behind her, five corpses descended upon the water elemental. With breath in her throat, Helesys realized she could not help the creature. The waterspout was too large to shoot around and too large to circle around. Not before the undead reached it. She could only watch through the elemental’s watery body as distorted shapes closed in.

  But it needed no help. One by one, the undead reached for the elemental and were sucked in and then hurled into the nearby stone column. The action happened in the span of a gasp and with catapult force. In moments all five corpses were broken and floated like limp dolls in the water, skeletons shattered so completely.

  Two more undead were upon Helesys and they met the same violent, splitting end at the palm of her cannon. Several more crunched against nearby stone at the surging of the elemental. All the while, the barbarian’s axe crashed around them.

  Violence filled the room and paused only once—when both weaver and barbarian scanned the room for any last corpses. There was only one and this time Taunauk marched toward it, his wake pushing aside the grisly remains that littered the water like stew.

  Helesys turned back toward the waterspout. “Thank you.”

  The water around her rippled as the elemental replied.

  Yes. ...The water is still and polluted. I cannot stay.

  Even in the short aftermath, as the water elemental spoke, Helesys saw grisly chunks of flesh swirl in its body. A dozen questions bubbled up in the elf’s mind, but one phrase spoke even louder within her:

  “Ut vos errare in aeternum et ut ubique esse domum tuam.” Helesys said the old words because she felt she should. She felt them to be customary—necessary—and as she spoke them, she felt some magic flow with the blessing: May you wander forever and may everywhere be your home.

  She did not know if the elemental would understand, but it replied in turn.

  Yes.

  The phrase was simple, but Helesys understood it to mean: And the same to you.

  Then the waterspout shrank into the flooded room, its bright waters disappearing unceremoniously into the gray water of the flooded room. With waters that still churned with barely forgotten violence.

  Then the water exploded with one last axeswing. With one last corpse.

  ~

  Helesys turned to see her companion wading toward her from across the room. The full measure of the violence filled her sight. The entire breadth of the room was littered with the remnants of corpses. Had they slain so very many in such a short time?

  As he approached, Taunauk’s face came into view in the torchlight. A half-smile on his lips.

  “I do not remember who I am, but gods that felt good,” he said with a quiet sigh.

  “We were clearly skirmishers,” Helesys added. The barbarian’s satisfaction spread to her, lifting her spirits.

  “What of the disk?” he asked, nodding toward the metal clutched to her chest.

  Helesys relaxed her grip—in the throes of battle she had nearly forgotten about it. She glanced at her wand-arm, realizing that she had thought only of it during the fray… It was such a powerful, yet innate, extension of her being that it had overshadowed her other limbs completely.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Helesys pondered her gauntlet a moment longer before replying. “It is a small matter but… I feel as if I lost myself in battle. I thought only with my arm, or rather did not think at all.”

  Taunauk shrugged. “A tool is an extension of the body. A torch in the dark no different than an axe in battle. It is a piece of us. Does that trouble you?”

  Helesys shook her head. Taunauk commanded his axe and the elf knew it would be the same if she held a torch. But her wand-arm felt like a mirror of that—as if it had thought for her, acted for her.

  “I will dwell on it further,” she replied, putting an end to the conversation.

  The elf held out the metal disc and Taunauk stepped abreast with her so they could both examine it. It was an exquisite piece. Not a circle, but an octagon about the diameter of her hand and of the same thickness. The metal was sleek and shiny—whether this was in spite of the gray water or due to its entrapment in the clear waters of the elemental, she could not say.

  One face of the disc was engraved with the shoulders and mane of a wolf. The design itself was a simplistic silhouette and yet exquisite in line and curve, as if it had been pressed instead of hand-made.

  “What do you make of it?” Helesys asked.

  “Stamped.”

  “I agree.”

  “Light enough to hold onto,” the barbarian replied. “Do you feel magic within it?”

  Helesys shook her head for she felt no magic in the plate. She turned it over in her hands, but could feel nothing that gave her that impression. On the backside, there were geometric ridges—purposeful, straight lines.

  “Another stamp,” she mumbled.

  Taunauk grunted in affirmation. “No pattern. Strange.”

  “Purposeful,” Helesys corrected. Made to fit somewhere…. “It is a key.”

  “Then we should hold onto it.”

  A screech split the quiet of the flooded room. Both turned to the far corner, to where the water deepened in hue. Another borehole and more fishmen with spears and shields raised. And in the center of the deepest blue, five sets of black eyes stared back. Each eye large enough that Helesys could see the thin vertical slit within.

  The fishmen had found another way in.

  The elf smoothly stowed the wolf crest in a front pocket of her robe and felt the churning of energy in her arm. Breath caught in her throat.

  ~

  One by one, each of the five heads broke the surface: Massive, reptilian, each topping a coiled-muscle neck. Up they rose, taller than them, taller than the elemental, twisting around each other like great serpents rising nearly to the edge of the gloom

  Helesys watched, spellbound, and vaguely aware that Taunauk was motionless beside her. The thought of dragons crossed her mind until the shoulders and body broke the surface and she saw that all five necks converged on the same massive frame. The body was nearly as wide as the spaces between columns. The forelegs even thicker than the necks above. The giant creature was covered in sleek, orange-gold scales that seemed to barely contain the knots of muscles beneath them.

  She had seen the gargantuan cage and the chains. She had heard the thunder of its footsteps. But nothing could have prepared her for the overwhelming sight of it.

  “By Movernus,” she whispered, not knowing which god she invoked. A feeling of dread washed over the elf, one that overshadowed even the monstrosity writhing in front of them. She knew what the creature was but…

  “Hydra,” Taunauk sneered, giving a name to her dread. The five heads coiled and climbed over one another like snakes in a pit.

  “We should run,” Helesys whispered. “We—”

  “We should,” the barbarian said as he gripped his axe tight. “But we won’t make it. Not knee-deep in water.”

  Helesys glanced at her comrade… She had seen the barbarian move and if he would not make it to the safety of the hallway then there was no way she would make it.

  “You could make it,” Helesys corrected.

  “The fishmen aren’t dumb—I will not die trapped in a hallway.”

  That was the other half of the elf’s dread: The false-choice of escape. Even if they somehow outran the beast, certain death awaited them in the hallway. Taunauk was right.

  Beside the five-headed reptile, a dozen fishmen chanted rhythmically and drew patterns in the air with their staffs. Though Helesys knew not the spell, she was sure that they were casting a spell and that they were chanting in unison.

  Back in their first fight, one fishman had hexed the barbarian… What could a dozen do?

  “I have a plan,” the elf said. “The fishmen are controlling the hydra.”

  Helesys felt the churning of arcane torrent in her arm and prayed that the blast would stretch that far. Power churned. She raised her wand-arm
—

  —and with one decisive crash, the Hydra stepped to the side, shielding its masters from her sight. All five massive serpent heads ceased their twisting and stared at her with murderous purpose. Helesys, stared wide-eyed, directly at the beast.

  “You are right,” Taunauk said. “Separate. Try for the weavers and if we fail, blast the columns and bring this cursed place down upon their heads. It will happen fast—”

  —The slits in its eyes widened and all five mouths opened, each with hundreds of spear-thin teeth. A cacophony rang out from the beast: Part hiss, shriek and bellow.

  The Hydra thundered forward, covering ten paces with every step. The water around their knees quivered with each impact. In the span of the second it took three steps and was halfway to them.

  The nearest column to the elf was a dozen steps away but it might as well have been a mile. The elf turned and dove for the column, splashing chest first into the icy water.

  Thundersteps shook the ground as Helesys sprawled in the water and pressed her back to the column. A single massive jaw, big enough to swallow her whole, clamped down to her right. The force shocked her—a split second slower and it would have had her.

  One of the far heads screamed, a barbarian roared, and the body of the Hydra turned again with quaking steps. Her chance! Helesys spun toward the fishmen and felt the arcane power churn.

  Instead of the fishmen, she saw a slab of orange scale nearly as tall as she was—the tail of the beast swinging and pushing a wall of water with it that blotted out the torchlight. Helesys ducked toward the column for shelter, and while the tail only brushed by the stone, the wall of water smacked her with incredible force. The elf was set flying by the impact of the wave and for a moment the world went black and silent and cold.

  Helesys struggled in the churning water—trying to find the stones as she surged with the wave. Finally she found her footing and stood. Now she was in the middle, a dozen paces from any column—any salvation.

  Meanwhile the barbarian roared and the beast’s thundersteps shook the stones beneath her feet. The Hydra was turned away from her, but still spinning. She watched each head descend out of view and heard each slap of teeth as each head in turn bit at her companion. Still the barbarian roared.

  The Hydra spun in a ferocious display. The first of its heads turned toward her.

  Helesys turned again toward the far corner, looking for the chanting fishmen. She could only see a few—two chanting—from where she was but she wouldn’t have the time to move. Not knee-deep in sloshing water. Her cannon whirred to life, filling with potential.

  Thunder was growing closer and the massive creature was growing quickly larger in the corner of her vision.

  Would it be enough? Would two fishmen be enough to break the spell?

  As doubt grew in her mind, power surged in her arm. The arcane torrent built and built, rising like a symphony until it was painful, until the hum of power shook her teeth and bones.

  At the last moment, Helesys turned and saw the Hydra, so big it blotted out the room. Five open mouths descended upon her.

  And she fired right at it.

  ~

  The recoil of the blast sent Helesys sprawling backward, skipping like a stone across the flooded room and then under the water. She tumbled as a wave bowled her over again. She breathed brine and coughed, gagging on water. Desperate for air.

  She slammed into a stone wall—the stone wall—clear across the room. Her ears rang, and her collarbone and neck screamed sharp pain. Somewhere she heard the dull screech of the Hydra, so powerful she felt it rippling through the water.

  Helesys opened her eyes to see a frothing ocean, waves taller than she—so violent that bare stone opened up in between. In the center of it all the Hydra thrashed, pulses of blood gushed from the center head, which was split in two to midway down the neck and hanging limp in front of the beast.

  She heard the muted roar of Taunauk—so faint in her ears compared to the ringing and the screech of the Hydra. The other reptilian heads turned and met the barbarian in a fury half-blocked from sight by the crashing waves.

  Helesys braced herself as another wave crashed into her. She winced and struggled to keep her footing.

  The ringing in her ears faded and for a moment the Hydra was overshadowed by a barbarian’s rage. But Taunauk’s roar was cut short. Across the room, Helesys saw one head of the great beast tilt back and swallow what she could only assume was her comrade.

  “No!” she screamed. “Oh gods.” Her heart sank so deeply that she thought it might drown in the waves.

  The Hydra turned toward the elf again, but this time it didn’t charge. This time the great serpent heads turned on the dead neck and bit at it, tearing away chunks of dead flesh. The other heads tore and swallowed, eating the wound. The Hydra’s body was still as it set upon itself.

  And when it was done, the serpent heads danced and twisted around each other again, around the fresh bleeding stump. Then the flesh of the stump started to pulse and then to grow.

  Helesys had seen enough, she turned for the fishmen. Both fists shook with anger. She raised her cannon for the few that she could see, still incessantly chanting at the other end of the room. She fired, not caring about the columns or the river above the room.

  Two blasts sounded from her hand and crashed into the stone beyond—both too high and too wide. The fishmen continued their chanting and ducked out of sight. Now she saw nothing but columns. She turned back and slumped against the wall. Her legs were numb from pain or exertion or both.

  The Hydra’s four heads stared at her as the fifth—and sixth grew—two heads sprouting through thin red skin. It was a slow process and Helesys was growing impatient.

  Her wand-arm churned with power again and she let it build. This time the pain thrummed through her bones almost immediately. Apparently even the arcane materials had a limit, but still she let it build.

  It wouldn’t be enough to slay the Hydra outright, but it would be enough for her purposes.

  Helesys leveled her cannon at the nearest column and smiled, for her blast might possibly catch several in a line. Then she fired. The blast erupted, shattering clean through the column. The crunch of stone sounded twice as the purple blast punched through both columns in a row.

  There was a tearing sound as the ceiling split, like the world might’ve cracked in two. Then water hissed from above and the entire underground groaned, the sound drowning out even the scream of the Hydra. The ceiling buckled, freeing a mountain of stone and a river of water.

  Numb pain filled Helesys and she slumped against the wall and into the water. In spite of it, she smiled with satisfaction. A comrade avenged and a swift death.

  All things considered, could she ask for anything more?

  ~ ~ ~

  The Room

  The next thing Helesys knew was blackness. Silence.

  Then she was falling.

  It was long enough for her heart to rise into her throat and no longer than that. She landed on both feet and crouched into a roll automatically. Twice over and then sprawled out on the dusty stone floor. Her wand-arm hummed with power.

  The elf pushed to her feet quickly because a short step away someone else fell to the ground. Taunauk hit the ground in a crouch, catching himself through sheer strength alone. Though the axe was on his back, he rose to a fighting stance. Fists were clenched, knuckles white.

  Both of them were alive and standing in the same stone room as they did at the start. Sparse torchlight. Ancient stone. Underground with no discernible entrance or trap door.

  Memory of the ceiling collapsing played across Helesys’s mind as she looked up. Surely with the mountain of stone and the river above she had been crushed… Yet here she stood. She relaxed the coursing energy in her arm and realized that it was fresh—untaxed.

  Neither the elf nor the human spoke. The room was still and quiet except for their quick breathing.

  Then Taunauk walked softly over to the tor
ches on the right wall, his footsteps overshadowed by Helesys’s rising breath. He ran a hand over the sconces, looking them over and when he reached the end of the wall he turned to her.

  “I tore one from the wall. There are none missing. No hole in the stone,” the barbarian said. He walked back to her.

  Helesys looked down at the bottom of her robe where she had cut it free from the stone door—it was unmarred. Not a stitch of fabric was torn. She had been renewed, body, metal, and cloth.

  “What do you last remember?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “The maw of the Hydra. Death. Blackness,” Taunauk’s reply was calm and measured. Forced.

  “I saw you die…” Helesys trailed off, remembering the battle cry of her companion and how it was cut short at the moment of his death. It was a reprieve to see him. “I fared no better.”

  She felt the edge of metal against her stomach and pulled the wolf crest from the pocket of her gray robes. The metal glinted in the torchlight. It appeared to be the same eight sided disc with wolf silhouette, though the geometric designs on the back—the side they thought was a key—were too complex to say if they had changed.

  “Do you think we were wrong about the relic?” Taunauk asked.

  Helesys glanced from the relic around at the stone room that seemed so familiar and yet was not. The sconces were different… or reset, like pieces on a game board. But even that was not quite right because the wolf crest was still in their possession. She felt no magic from the relic or the stone around them, yet they were alive.

  “I wish I could remember more,” the elf finally said. “Magic, no matter the kind, works with rules. We must learn the rules of the dungeon and the rules that govern our rebirth if we hope to make it out.” She slid the wolf crest back into the front of her robe.

  The barbarian grunted in affirmation.