The Third Soul Omnibus Two

by Jonathan Moeller

  Frost and stinking mold choked the tunnel’s brickwork walls. A slick layer of ice covered the floor, and the stench of rotting flesh and the festerlings’ reek filled the air. And demons, countless demons, filled the subterranean corridors; lesser ghouls, reaper-ghouls, drifting wraiths, even dead knights on skeletal horses, similar to the creatures that had guarded Abbotsford.

  Yet they fell back from the holy sigil in Raelum’s fist. They crowded against the walls, trying to flee from the light, slipping into the protective shadows. Raelum ran forward, holding the sigil aloft. The demons shied away.

  Raelum moved as fast as the slick floor and the crowds of dead would permit. He stretched out his senses, reeling with the darkness in this unholy place. Nightgrim lurked some distances ahead, deeper in the earth. The draugvir had not moved for some time. Had he killed Lionel?

  Raelum moved ever downward, deeper into the darkness. He had spent years creeping through Khauldun’s cavernous sewers, and the maze of passages, the empty burial niches yawning from the wall, did not daunt him. But, by the Divine, the stink! Khauldun’s sewers smelled like a sunlit meadow compared to these stench-choked warrens.

  Nightgrim felt close, yet Raelum could not find the correct path. He lifted his blazing sword, sweeping it back and forth. Three looming archways yawned before him. Tendrils of greenish mold dangled from the crumbling stonework. All three led deeper into the earth. Which way?

  A scream echoed through the dark vaults, coming from the leftmost archway. Raelum ran forward, medallion held out like a shield. The demons flinched away, moaning. The sobbing scream rang out again. A voice rose, as if in answer, deep and courtly.

  Raelum remembered that voice.

  Nightgrim

  He had only one chance. He had to catch Nightgrim off guard and destroy the draugvir with one blow. No matter how much strength the Light granted him, Nightgrim could still move faster and strike harder.

  Raelum turned a corner, the light from the medallion and the sword throwing back the darkness. A short, sloping passage led into a massive brickwork vault. A pair of cracked, mold-mantled pillars supported the high ceiling, and a stone sarcophagus rested between the pillars.

  And atop the sarcophagus lay Lionel of Tarrenheim, his ankles and wrists bound, eyes wide with terror. Yet he was still alive, still human. Raelum had expected to see Nightgrim stooping over…

  “Raelum!” shouted Lionel. “The ceiling…”

  Too late Raelum realized that Nightgrim would have seen the light from his sword and the medallion.

  He heard a whistle of air and flung himself to the side just as a dark shape fell from the ceiling. He hit the floor, rolling, his mail clattering. Raelum bounded to his feet, still gripping the sword and the sigil.

  “My dear Sir Raelum!” Nightgrim stood between him and the doorway, clad all in black, his eyes lit with a crimson gleam. “Come for your unfinished business, I presume?” The draugvir laughed. “How gracious of you, sir! Now I may settle my debts all at once.”

  “Run,” croaked Lionel, “run, get out of here before he takes you, before it’s too late…”

  “You will settle nothing,” growled Raelum, stepping towards the draugvir.

  Nightgrim circled around him with feline grace. “If my ears do not deceive me, that sounds like a formal challenge.”

  “It is,” said Raelum, “you foul thing. By the Divine, I swear while I live you will not leave this city.”

  Nightgrim’s hideous laughter redoubled. “Then I shall help fulfill that oath!”

  Raelum stepped forward, holding out the medallion. Its golden-white light blazed brighter, and Nightgrim flinched, snarling, but did recoil. For a moment they stood, glaring at each other, and the crimson gleam in Nightgrim’s eyes grew to a blaze of bloody fire.

  Raelum called on the Light to fill him with strength and speed.

  Nightgrim moved.

  The draugvir leapt up in a terrifying blur, cloak billowing like wings. Raelum dodged, and Nightgrim’s booted foot crashed to earth where Raelum had stood a moment earlier. The draugvir came at him in a whirlwind of blows. Raelum ducked and dodged and weaved. He tried to riposte, to slip his blade past Nightgrim’s guard, but every time the draugvir’s fist came up and slapped his sword aside. Raelum ducked, spun, and hacked at Nightgrim’s legs.

  The draugvir leapt backwards and landed atop the sarcophagus, booted feet at either side of Lionel’s hips.

  “Bravo!” said Nightgrim. “How I admire your courage! Not one man in a thousand has the valor to stand against me, nor the skill to survive so long. And you have grown strong in the Light since we last met, I see. But that will not save you.” His crimson gaze hammered into Raelum. “Why should you fight? It is hopeless. Throw down your weapons, and I will dispatch you without pain.”

  Raelum growled, clutched the sigil tighter, and shook off the draugvir’s mesmeric gaze. “No!”

  The draugvir’s laughter mocked him.

  Nightgrim sprang into the air, gripped the ceiling, and skittered along like a spider. Raelum spun, ready for Nightgrim to plummet like a thunderbolt. Nightgrim let go, and Raelum braced himself.

  Yet even as he fell, Nightgrim kicked off the wall. His foot swooped down and slammed into Raelum’s chest. Raelum skidded backwards and slammed into the sarcophagus. He reeled, barely keeping his feet, every bone in his body ringing in pain. Nightgrim roared in triumph and dashed at him.

  In desperation Raelum thrust the medallion into Nightgrim’s face. The draugvir screeched and flinched away, hand rising to cover his eyes. Raelum yelled and stabbed his sword into the draugvir’s side. Nightgrim wailed and tore free. Raelum slumped against the sarcophagus, fighting the dizziness.

  “Thrice!” spat Nightgrim. The mask of gentility had fallen away, and the draugvir’s face twisted with inhuman fury. “Thrice you have wounded me! You’ll suffer for this, boy!”

  Raelum whirled and chopped down, severing the ropes binding Lionel’s wrists and ankles. He yanked free Lionel’s sword belt and dropped it on the sarcophagus.

  Nightgrim laughed.“You think to have aid against me? Folly! Gallant Sir Lionel cannot resist me now.” He bent his gaze on Lionel. “Remain there.”

  Lionel went rigid, trembling with fear.

  “He will watch me rip you from limb to limb, and then I’ll kill him,” said Nightgrim. “A delightful repayment for your debt, would you not agree?”

  “Speak not to me of debts!” said Raelum. “How many have you tormented, defiled, slaughtered? No more! They shall be avenged tonight!” Yet as Nightgrim advanced, Raelum could think of no way to fulfill his threat. He could not outfight Nightgrim. Sooner or later, the draugvir would overpower him.

  He did not wait for Nightgrim’s attack, but dashed forward, slashing. Nightgrim danced around his blows. The draugvir turned and kicked, his foot smashing into Raelum’s side. Raelum’s feet skidded out beneath him, and he fell to one knee.

  Nightgrim towered over him like a cloud. Raelum yelled and thrust the medallion, pushing its light into Nightgrim’s face. The draugvir howled and reared back, overbalancing. Raelum swung, his sword tip digging a furrow through Nightgrim’s shoulder. The draugvir snarled and backed away, and Raelum staggered to his feet, pressing forward, the shining sigil held out before him. If he could push the draugvir against the wall, he might strike a decisive blow…

  Nightgrim jumped backwards, struck the wall, and scrambled up to the ceiling. Raelum turned, sword held high, trying to keep the draugvir in sight. The light from his sword only just reached the ceiling, and he could scarce see Nightgrim’s black-clad form.

  He heard a cracking sound, and a chunk of masonry hurtled out of the darkness. Raelum just had time to jump out of the way. The bricks shattered against the floor in a spray of dust.

  “Bravo, sir, bravo!” came Nightgrim’s voice. “Such speed! Since you fight in a most ungentlemanly fashion with that horrid light, I must also resort to cruder tactics.” Another chunk of brickwork explod
ed from the shadows. The edge clipped Raelum’s shoulder, pain bursting through his arm and chest. “Yet how many more can you dodge, eh? Shall we find out?”

  Raelum caught a glimpse of Nightgrim tearing a chunk from one of the pillars. It struck the floor at Raelum’s feet, and one brick slammed into Raelum’s knee. He reeled back, slumping against the stone sarcophagus.

  “Lionel,” he coughed.

  Lionel trembled like a trapped rabbit.

  Nightgrim plummeted from the darkness. Raelum threw himself to the side, and Nightgrim struck the floor so hard that the tiles shattered beneath his boots. Raelum backed against the damaged pillar, sword and medallion raised. Nightgrim squinted against the radiance, but stepped forward.

  “Come, sir,” said Nightgrim, “you cannot keep me at bay forever. Lay down your weapon and the golden sign. I will then slay you quickly.” His black eyes bored into Raelum’s mind. “Lay down your sword!”

  Raelum bared his teeth. “No!”

  The pillar groaned, and Raelum risked a look up. Nightgrim had torn away a large part of the column, leaving holes in the crumbling bricks and mortar. Raelum called on the Light to fill him with strength and leaned into the pillar. A load groaning filled the chamber, and dust fell from the ceiling, glittering in the medallion’s light.

  Nightgrim laughed. “You mean to tear down the ceiling? Really, sir. Such an action, while inconvenient, would not harm me in the slightest. Furthermore, you would almost certainly suffer a painful death.”

  Raelum roared and slammed against the pillar.

  A vicious shudder went through the brick column, and it toppled into the far wall.

  Then the ceiling began to collapse.

  Nightgrim changed, his body becoming hazy and insubstantial. A heartbeat later a ton of brickwork crashed into the draugvir. Raelum pushed aside his exhaustion, sprang through the dust, and seized Lionel’s shoulder.

  “Come on, you idiot!” said Raelum. “Run!”

  Lionel shook himself, rolled off the sarcophagus, and ran. They sprinted into the corridor even as the vaulted chamber collapsed with a thunderous roar and a roiling cloud of dust.

  In the medallion’s hazy light, Raelum saw cracks spreading across the walls.

  “Keep running!” he yelled.

  He sprinted forward, rounded a corner, and crashed into a pack of panicked reaper-ghouls. The demons lunged at him, and Raelum thrust the sigil. The reaper-ghouls recoiled from the light.

  “Run!” said Raelum.

  They dashed down corridors at random, scrabbling for purchase on the icy floors. Demons ran back and forth through the tunnels, flinching from the sigil’s light. Finally Raelum stopped, panting. A few reaper-ghouls skulked at the edge of the light, but Raelum saw no sign of Nightgrim.

  The chamber didn’t look familiar. Corridors branched off in five different directions, choked with dust and demons.

  And Raelum realized he didn’t know how to get back to the surface.

  Chapter 13 - Hunters and Hunted

  For a moment they stood in silence.

  “How,” said Lionel. “How did you find me? How did you know that…he had taken me? How did you even live long enough to get…”

  “Quiet,” said Raelum. Every inch of his body ached. “I need to think.”

  “Here.” A sudden warmth washed through Raelum, the pain fading. Lionel stepped back, the Light glimmering around his fingertips.

  “Thank you.”

  Lionel shrugged. “I was useless when you faced Nightgrim.” He looked away in shame. “I cannot resist him. By the Divine…if you hadn’t found me…”

  “Enough,” said Raelum. “There isn’t time.” Nightgrim had survived the collapse, Raelum had no doubt. They dared not linger here.

  “Let’s go,” said Raelum, picking one of the passages at random. “If we can’t get to the High Temple before Nightgrim finds us, we are dead men.” He kept the medallion before him, demons cowering away from the light.

  “What is that light?” said Lionel, gazing at the medallion in wonder. “Is…is that from the dead Brother…”

  “Aye,” said Raelum. “I had more need of it than he did. Besides, if we live through this, I’ll return it.” The tunnel branched into two directions, one ascending, the other descending. Raelum shrugged and took the higher path.

  “Did it lead you to me?” said Lionel.

  “Not quite.” The passageway opened into another vaulted chamber. “I recognized some of the ghouls as men and women from Abbotsford. I realized Nightgrim must have followed us. I resolved to go after you, and I picked up the medallion by chance, or by the will of the Divine, one or the other. It carries some of the High Temple’s consecration. I sensed Nightgrim’s presence, and followed him to you.” Raelum fell silent. Two passageways led from the vault. Both led downwards, deeper into this demon-choked maze.

  “So…you followed Nightgrim to me?” said Lionel.

  “Yes.”

  “And therefore you don’t know how to return to the surface.”

  Raelum sighed. “I don’t. The collapse buried the passages I used.” A new fear grew in his mind. Perhaps the collapse had sealed them here.

  Perhaps he would die here, rise as a reaper-ghoul, and wander these dungeons for an eternity, never finding Marsile.

  The thought enraged him.

  “I am a dead man,” said Lionel. “You should not have come. Now you are dead, too.”

  Raelum glared at him. “I am not dead yet, nor are you. And by the Divine, I will not give up while I have breath. We will find a way out.”

  Lionel shrugged. “Lead on.”

  Raelum picked the leftmost passage and kept walking.

  ###

  It took Nightgrim some time to find his way free from the collapsed corridors.

  The stone hampered him not at all. With his flesh shifted into the astral world, he moved through the fallen rubble like smoke drifting through clear air. Yet even in the astral realm, he could not see through solid rock, and it took some effort to find a clear corridor.

  He stepped into an empty vault and made himself solid once more. A few reaper-ghouls shuffled towards him, looked at his face, and cringed in terror.

  Nightgrim heard a deep growl.

  With some surprise, he realized it came from his own throat.

  He had endured difficulties before. Enemies had wounded him. The Paladins had driven him into hiding. And a few times he had been forced to abandon victims before satisfying hunger, as had happened in St. Tarill’s with Lionel of Tarrenheim.

  Nightgrim’s growl rose to a roar.

  But no one had ever wounded him as many times as Raelum.

  The very thought filled him with fury like molten iron. Nightgrim strode into the corridors, snarling. He would find them both, rip out Lionel’s throat, drain him dry, and tear Raelum to shreds …

  He stopped.

  He had to think. Rage clouded his mind, and if he was not careful he might blunder into some clever trap. He sniffed the floor. It stank with centuries of corruption, yet his nostrils still caught the faint trace of living blood. Nightgrim hastened down the corridor. New thoughts stirred in his mind, along with a fresh note of alarm.

  He had to hurry. If they got back to the High Temple, they would take precautions against the power of his will. And dawn was not all that far off. With that wretched medallion, they could descend into the depths of the city and destroy him as he rested, his powers reduced by the sun.

  “Master!”

  Nightgrim whirled. The bloated ghoul that had once been Walchelin, bailiff of Abbotsford, cowered in a corner.

  “Kindly waste not my time,” said Nightgrim.

  “They came this way,” said Walchelin, squeezing out of the corner. “Raelum and Lionel.” The ghoul’s raspy voice twisted with hate.

  “Which way did they go?” said Nightgrim.

  Walchelin pointed to a tunnel that led deeper into the earth.

  Nightgrim frowned. “Are they mad?�
�� He blinked, and began to grin. “Why, Walchelin, I do believe our adversaries are lost!”

  “They had a…light, a horrible light,” said Walchelin. “I couldn’t follow them.”

  “Come along, noble bailiff,” said Nightgrim. “You shall feast on Sir Raelum’s flesh yet.”

  Walchelin grinned, slime oozing from his gums, and followed after Nightgrim.

  ###

  Raelum kept walking.

  He wondered if hell was like the catacombs. The black tunnels ran forever in all directions, the air heavy with the reek of decay. And the dead, the demons choking the corridors, never seemed to end. Without the medallion’s light, the hordes would tear them apart.

  Lionel’s voice droned over and over in a prayer that had eroded into frightened mumbles.

  Raelum trudged on, squinting at the arches and the doorways, trying to find a way back to the surface. The nameless city seemed a haven next to this place.

  “We’re never going to get out, are we?” whispered Lionel.

  “We shall get out.” But Raelum feared Lionel was right.

  He glimpsed water trickling down the wall.

  “What is it?” said Lionel.

  “Water,” said Raelum. “It must be flowing from someplace on the surface.”

  Lionel shrugged. “What of that? The city sits beside a lake. Water must drain down here all the time.”

  “No,” said Raelum. “If it did, this entire place would have been swept away long ago.” He remembered the mazes of sewers beneath Khauldun, the brick tunnels that had carried water into the sea. “This must come from somewhere in the city. Melted snow, I think. Mayhap we can follow it.”

  “I can think of nothing better,” said Lionel.

  They walked through the corridors, boots scraping against the icy floor. Raelum kept the medallion high, eyes on the flow of slushy water.

  “The passage is sloping up,” said Raelum.

  Lionel said nothing.

  ###

  Nightgrim stood motionless, watching the two men.

  “The light,” croaked Walchelin, “the horrid…”