A Glimmer of Hope

by Steve McHugh

  She sighed. She wasn’t in the best situation of her life, but refused to give in to the fear that bubbled up inside of her. She looked up at the single light in the center of the room, the dim glow doing little to help her spot any loose bits of wall that might be a sign of a structural weakness. It was a long shot, but at that exact moment in time, long shots were all she had left.

  She turned back to the door and kneeled down in front of it, staring at the lock and remembering the hours and days of lessons with her father. Continuously practicing unlocking locks of all different shapes and sizes. By the time she was nine, she could open pretty much anything. The lock in front of her was something normally seen on cell doors. Picking it would require something a bit more robust than anything she had on her, and even then she wasn’t sure she could actually pick it. She needed a key. And she doubted that she was going to be able to get her hands on one anytime soon.

  Layla rested her forehead against the cool metal door and wished she could think of a way out. She walked over to the rear wall, searching for any way to escape. Considering they were a considerable distance underground, she wasn’t exactly surprised at the lack of windows, but at least they would have given her some hope.

  There was a stone slab just in front of the wall that was slightly raised in comparison to the rest of the cell. She stood on the slab and it wobbled, as if not quite set.

  At this point, she would be happy to take anything useful, and she tried to dig her fingers into the side of the stone, but there wasn’t a big enough gap, and the stone was far too heavy for her to lift alone. She looked around the room, desperate to find a solution, something to use as a lever, but there was nothing. She wasn’t really sure what she’d expected; just because the stone was loose, it wasn’t like she was going to dig herself to freedom. She got up from the floor and walked over to the sink, ran the tap, and washed her hands free of the dirt and mud. She watched as the water disappeared down the plughole, which was really just one big hole with no grate.

  In her haste to clean her hands, she’d forgotten to remove the silver ring her mother had given her on her sixteenth birthday, and she watched it drop down the plug into the darkness beyond.

  Layla screamed as the frustration of what had happened to her threatened to overpower her senses. She took a deep breath, stepped to the side of the sink, and kicked the white plastic waste pipe that ran into the wall. She kicked it over and over, dislodging the pipe from the sink, spilling water all over the floor. She grabbed hold of the pipe and moved it from side to side, until she heard something crunch and she ripped it free, along with part of the wall it was attached to, causing her to fall back on her butt.

  She stared in the pipe and found a mass of gunk at the end furthest from the plughole, where the pipe was attached to a wooden board that had been painted to look like concrete. Presumably it was the idea of whoever had done the plumbing, so that if anything did block it, the people here didn’t have to smash open concrete to get to the problem. Layla pulled the mess of stuff she didn’t want to think about out of the hole, and the ring fell onto the floor with a satisfying noise. It was a small thing, but it had been her happiest moment in days.

  It was immediately followed by a glimmer of hope as she saw the hole where the pipe and wooden board used to be, on the wall. She dropped the pipe and moved over to the hole she’d created, gagging at the smell of stale water. There were no plumbing pipes, just a big hole that went down into the darkness beyond. It was big enough for her to climb into, although it would be a tight squeeze. Even so, it was go down there into who knows what, or stay in a cell where she would be forced to help murderers and monsters. There was barely any decision to be made at all.

  She grabbed hold of the piece of pipe she’d just broken and dropped it down the opening, listening to it bounce around like a pinball on its way down. She was about to try to squeeze into the hole when the door opened and a creature walked in.

  Layla glanced back and paused, watching the thing enter the room, its red eyes staring at her with anger.

  “What are you doing?” it demanded, dropping the tray of food onto the floor with a clang, spilling some sort of mashed potato or vegetable onto the concrete.

  “There’s no water,” Layla said quickly. “There’s part of the pipe missing.”

  “Move.” The creature walked over to the sink and began to look into the hole.

  The creature wasn’t human, Layla was certain of that, but it was humanoid. It had mauve skin with blotches of darker or lighter purple across its bare arms. Long brown hair flowed from the top of its bumpy skull and across its shoulders. It wore deep red, leather armor, and carried a vicious sword at its hip the likes of which Layla hadn’t ever seen outside of a fantasy film. The sword was black, curved, and had the appearance of something used solely to cause pain. From the look it had given her upon entering the cell, Layla got the impression that causing pain was something the creature enjoyed.

  The creature’s black eyes looked up at Layla, checking that she’d moved far enough back. It smiled, showing a row of razor-sharp teeth, each one a small red triangle.

  “Move and die,” it snapped, and went back to looking in the hole.

  Layla darted forward, and as the creature looked away from her, drove her knee into the side of its head. The skull bounced off the enamel sink, and she drove her knee in once again, crushing its nose. When it moved she took hold of its forehead and repeatedly smashed the back of its head against the sink, causing black blood to spill out from the wound. She let the creature fall to the floor, before stomping on its face several times in an effort to knock it out.

  Layla grabbed the sword, pulling it free from the creature’s side, and was about to drive the blade through its chest when she paused. She couldn’t kill, she just couldn’t. She wouldn’t be like her father. She spun the blade and smashed the hilt into the side of the creature’s head. It finally stopped moving.

  Layla found the cell keys on the floor and ran out of the room, closing and locking the door behind her as she went. She stopped. Elias had told her that those people who had survived the attack on the train depot were going to be brought here. She needed to figure out if she could save them. But she didn’t even know where to start looking.

  She kicked the door with the toe of her shoe. What if he’d been lying? What if she found them and they were already dead, or couldn’t make it out of here? Right there and then she knew that she couldn’t spend time looking for anyone else that might be trapped here. Elias and his people would just capture her again. She needed to get to the police, to tell them what had happened so that they could come and deal with it. Somehow.

  Layla kept hold of the sword and searched around the cavern she found herself in, looking for any incoming threats. Instead, all she found were several stalagmites and a small stream.

  It wouldn’t be long before her captors realized she was missing and went looking for her, and Layla wanted to be as far from here as possible when that happened. Where here was, she had no idea, but there had to be a way to get back up the stairs toward the lift and her freedom.

  She walked down the stream, following several lights that had been set up around the area, until it took her into a gigantic cavern. Stalagmites and stalactites fought for numeric supremacy, leaving little space for her to get around without walking through the middle of the stream. Occasionally, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and wondered just how big the insects got this far under the earth. She increased her pace.

  After walking through several more chambers, Layla eventually came to a set of brick stairs leading up toward a tunnel. She walked up the stairs and into the tunnel, following its incline for several minutes until she arrived at a steel door. There was no lock, or even a keyhole, and she pushed it open with a squeal loud enough to wake the dead. She stepped through into a corridor, although this one reminded her of the cell where she’d been kept, all concrete slabs and gray brick.

  She
followed the tunnel until it opened out, showing her three new paths to take, but with no clue as to which one was actually the escape she desperately needed.

  “He’s been gone too long,” a voice shouted from one tunnel. She counted that tunnel as a bad idea, and ran down another. It snaked for a few minutes, and then she smelled blood. She stopped walking, flattening herself up against the wall, moving slowly along it. Lights hung from the ceiling every few dozen feet, but about halfway between each one was a patch of darkness. Metal boxes and stacks of building supplies were left all over the tunnel, and Layla used them to cover herself as best she could.

  As she moved further down the tunnel, the sounds of crunching and slurping echoed around her. She began to see thick metal bars on one side, with a huge space behind them. The bars stretched along as far as she could see, each bar twelve feet high and a foot in diameter. She continued on, until she could no longer use old boxes for cover, and looked into the darkness of the cavern behind the metal bars.

  What had once been a sheep was lying on its side in the center of the floor. The sheep’s head and legs were missing, as was most of the flesh around the section of the ribcage that Layla could see. She ducked back and took a few deep breaths, before turning back to the sight before her.

  Behind the remains of the sheep was the ogre. He had part of a sheep leg in one hand and was ripping lumps of flesh off with the other and putting them into his waiting mouth. Occasionally he made a noise of contentment.

  There was no chance the ogre wouldn’t see Layla coming out from behind the large crate she was crouching behind, and there was fifty feet of open tunnel before she could make it past the creature’s cage. She studied the bars, hoping they would hold if he tried to do something. The door to the cage had a huge lock on it, and Layla wondered whether it would work. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the open, walking steadily toward the end of the cage.

  “Hello, little one,” Brako the ogre called out. “I could smell you.”

  Layla froze as the ogre tossed the sheep’s leg aside. “Be on your way.”

  Fear gave way to confusion. “Why aren’t you going to chase me?”

  “I’m locked in here. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Besides, you’re not going to get far, and I’ve just eaten. I didn’t eat your friends, by the way. I killed them, but I don’t eat people. Don’t like the taste.”

  Anger bubbled up inside of Layla.

  “Want to kill me, little one?” Brako asked. “Bet you do. You can’t, though. You’re just a little human, barely capable of doing much aside from breeding and dying. Run along, little one, they’ll find you soon enough, so you might as well give them some sport before they do.”

  Layla turned and sprinted away from Brako and the stench that surrounded him. She eventually came to a flight of metal stairs, which she ascended slowly, hoping she wasn’t making too much noise, wincing with every step that brought unwanted sound.

  When she reached the top, she found herself in an identical tunnel to the one she’d just left. A moment of despair hit her. She had no idea where she was going, or where this new tunnel would lead; she was just running, and sooner or later she’d come across those hunting her.

  She forced the thought aside; she could be upset later, when she wasn’t in danger. Now was the time for keeping it together and forging on. A few minutes later she came to another fork in the tunnel; she picked the turning closest to her, running down it until she passed a door that was standing ajar. Hearing noises up ahead, she ran into the room in a panic, closing the door behind her.

  The room was easily the size of the cavern the ogre lived in, but instead of monsters and death, it contained scrolls. There were thousands upon thousands of them, each tied with string and stacked on the shelves. Two sets of stairs led to a walkway above. It reminded her of a library. She picked up the closest scroll and unfurled it. In the top left-hand corner there was a yellow sticker with the number 936 written on it. But the rest of the scroll was written in a language she’d never seen before that appeared to use runes or glyphs of some kind. She couldn’t begin to think where it had come from.

  She put it down and looked at a few others. Each one had a different number and different writing; she couldn’t read any of them. She quickly gave up and walked between two of the huge shelving units. It didn’t take long to reach the end, but she’d counted a dozen separate rows, each with four different shelves. A huge amount of information. Part of her wanted to start going through them, to discover what they were, but she needed to leave, needed to put more distance between herself and those pursuing her.

  Layla walked back toward the door, hoping to figure out if whoever she’d heard had gone. But before she was halfway there, the door began to slowly creak open. She darted back behind the nearest set of shelves, peering through the scrolls, hoping the darkness that surrounded her concealed her from whoever was entering.

  “Are you in here?” The voice was deep, guttural. “Come out and play.”

  The words sent a shiver down Layla’s spine, but she dared not move, dared not draw any attention to herself. She gripped the hilt of the sword tightly, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. She wanted to show them she was not afraid, to show them exactly what happened to those who cornered her, but she knew it would only get her captured, or worse.

  Layla watched the creature walk over to the stack of shelves on the far side and sniff the air, before repeating the same behavior on the side of the room closest to her. Even though Layla was four rows back, she still held her breath.

  “Did you find anything?” a second creature said as it entered the room, this one shorter than the first, with a bald head.

  “Smells of musty paper in here. We should check the shelves on each side, upstairs too.”

  “You’re welcome to,” the bald one said, and left the room.

  The first creature took another look around and sniffed again. “If you’re here, we’ll come back for you. You can’t hide forever.” It left the room and she heard the familiar and awful sound of a key engaging the lock.

  Layla ran to the door and placed her ear against it, but heard nothing. She looked through the keyhole, but there was no sign of whatever those creatures were. She tried the key she’d taken from her jailer, but it didn’t fit. She sank to her knees. She was trapped once more, and this time she doubted she’d be able to find a way out before someone found her. All of her hard work for nothing. Well, if she was going to be caught, she was going to make it hard for them to get to her. She’d take every single scroll she could find and stack them up in front of the door; maybe that would buy her some time.

  Layla reached up to the shelf above, intending to use it to pull herself up, but she grabbed a sharp piece of metal, slicing through the palm of her hand. She cried out, then quickly forced herself to be silent. Her hand was bleeding and she grabbed several sheets of paper, pressing them hard onto the wound.

  The paper soon turned red, so Layla grabbed several more sheets, all of which had notes about the scrolls on them. She started to read them, but they, too, soon turned red. All out of paper, she picked a scroll from the nearby shelf and used that. When the bleeding finally slowed, she saw that the cut wasn’t long, but it was deep enough that it would need stitches.

  Layla kept a tight grip on the scroll, just in case, and got to her feet. She searched through another pile of scrolls until she found a piece of string long enough to enable her to wrap the paper round her hand and tie it tightly in place.

  She took a step forward and the world began to spin, causing her to crash to her knees between two shelves.

  Do you accept the gifts we can give you?

  The voice appeared to come from all around the room. Layla shook her head, forcing herself back to her feet. The door swung open and the creature who’d been in the room earlier, the one who had sent a shiver up Layla’s spine, walked in. It turned its head toward Layla and smiled. Layla was directly in its line of sight.


  “I knew you were in here,” it said.

  Do you accept the gifts we can give you?

  “Who keeps asking that?” Layla shouted. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Asking what?” the creature said.

  This is a blood elf. It will kill you. Do you accept the gifts we can give you?

  “What gifts?” Layla shouted.

  “Who are you talking to?” the creature asked, looking around to ensure it wasn’t about to be attacked.

  “Blood elf,” Layla stammered.

  The shock in the elf’s eyes was easy to see. “How do you know of my kind?” It drew its sword and took a step forward. “You will answer my question.”

  Layla noticed that she’d left the sword she’d taken from the blood-elf jailer by the door. She had no way of defending herself against an armed opponent.

  Do you accept the gifts we can give you?

  Layla stared at the creature walking toward her. She wanted to fight, and she wanted to win. “Will you help me fight?” she asked the voices.

  The blood elf stopped. “I’ll help you scream.”

  Yes.

  “Yes, then. Please help me. I accept.”

  And Layla’s whole world vanished into darkness.

  10

  The second Layla accepted the offer she found herself looking down on her body, which was no longer under her control. She hated it.

  She watched from afar as the metal shelves closest to her exploded toward the blood elf, impaling it with a dozen foot-long spikes. The elf dropped to its knees, blood pouring from multiple wounds. Layla’s body picked up the blade the blood elf had relinquished and examined it. The metal in the sword liquefied and traveled over her hand and forearm before solidifying into a gauntlet.

  Her body retrieved the scroll at her feet, sliding it down the inside of her jeans against her outer thigh, and kicked the blood elf onto the ground. She stepped over its body and walked toward the door.