by Adam Carter
“I think your orb ran out on us,” Crenshaw said.
“Arno!” Wren shouted.
Canlin swung his axe without looking and cleaved the forearm off a hirsute limb reaching for him. He had been so focused on the departing light that he had not been paying any attention to the fight. The dragon continued to rage against the shaggy beasts, yet they were so numerous that they were coming upon the group from all angles.
“We’re trapped,” he said as they all backed against the wall.
“Dying in the castle,” Crenshaw said. “Who would have thought this would have been how we’d go?”
“We’re not dead yet,” Asperathes said.
“Soon enough,” Canlin said. “But we can take a few of them with us.”
Something hit him on the head and he slapped at it with his hand as it brushed against his cheek. The darkness was near absolute now the ball of light had deserted them and Canlin swatted at the thing again, even as he tried to see what it was.
Then he recognised it. It was some form of snake, descending from the gloom above, and it was hissing in his face. He did not feel its fangs pierce his skin, but there must have been some lingering numbness from the freezing touch of the shaggy beasts, for he felt his brain sway and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mannin was lost and was not above admitting it. She had not spent enough time in the castle to familiarise herself with the inner layout of the keep, and the more she ran the more she was certain she had passed through the same corridors over and over. As she came to a familiar room, she stopped, mentally and physically exhausted. The room was filled with crates and discarded equipment, a rusty grille in the floor down which a thin and sickly liquid was seeping. She knew those crates, knew that grille, and most of all knew the smell of that sickly liquid.
In fact, it was the third time she had known it all.
Collapsing despondently onto a crate, Mannin sank her head into her hands and tried to calm her racing heart. She had failed Captain Wren and now her people were facing Moya alone. She was not foolish enough to believe she could have added anything to their attack, but at least she would have been an extra body. If nothing else she could have thrown herself in the way of a blast meant for the captain. But now she could not even do that much, and all because she had no sense of direction and did not even seem to be able to find a staircase.
Her face felt strangely warm of a sudden and she removed her hands to see something hovering directly above the grille. She did not know precisely what it was, but it appeared to be a ball of light. She stared closer. Indeed, it was spherical and contained liquid fire compressed into an orb. What it was doing there, she had no idea, although from its position she assumed it had risen from the grille. It did look oddly familiar, and she tried to think from where. She was certain it had something to do with ghosts, but since she did not believe in ghosts she could not see how that could have been.
And then it came to her. The regiment had made camp one night and some of the soldiers insisted in exchanging ghost stories. Mannin had not been that interested, until an orb of light very much like this one had buzzed her face and caused her to shriek so loudly it gave everyone a fright.
Valok had been laughing at them all for days to come, at how he had managed to use one soldier to frighten all the serious storytellers about that camp fire.
Valok. That was where she knew the ball of light from, and if it was Valok’s, that would have to mean …
Swiftly, Mannin seized the rusty grille in both hands and yanked hard. It did not budge, so she tried again. It still did not budge and she wished she had Canlin’s strength as she tugged again. This time she heard it groan, and it snapped away from the ground with the force of a striking cobra. Mannin fell hard on her backside and muttered obscenities at herself as she rose. Making her way to the hole, she peered down and could see nothing. However far down the pit went, Valok would not have sent her a message unnecessarily, so she saw no reason to waste time and energy shouting down for him. Instead she did something useful and looked around for a rope.
With all the discarded equipment, it was not difficult to find an adequate length, but to be on the safe side she bound two ropes together, certain that it could stretch to the depths of Hell if necessary. Not losing any further time, Mannin dropped one end of the rope down the hole and gently fed it as quickly as she could.
It was not long at all before she felt it tighten and realised she would have to tie it off somewhere. Thankfully the crates were heavy with discarded metal and she was able to wind the rope about one of these. Pulling on one end to keep it steady, she felt every shake of the rope jar her as someone rapidly ascended.
After an eternity, she could hear the grunts of someone struggling to manage the final few feet and was relieved to see the hand and then the head of Captain Wren appear. She was covered in dirt, sweat and a spray of blood, but seemed otherwise fine. Upon seeing Mannin, she looked down and called, “It’s fine, come on up.”
Mannin wanted to grab her to help her up, but could not release the rope.
By the time Wren had scrambled up to the room and collapsed upon her back, other arms were being thrust through the opening and since Mannin could feel no tug on the rope she figured Valok was using a levitation spell.
Shortly, everyone was in the room and, while they were all bruised and battered, only one of them had sustained serious injury.
“He’s fine,” Valok said when Mannin expressed concern for Sergeant Canlin. “He just keeled over, no idea why.”
Having wiped some of the blood from her face, thus proving it had not come from her own veins, Wren crouched beside Canlin and waved a small vial under his nose. Canlin stirred, then bolted upright.
“Snake,” he said. “A snake bit me.”
“Only snake here is Asp, Sergeant.”
“Something bit me,” he protested angrily.
“Maybe it was Mannin’s rope,” Valok suggested. “Rope has been known to bite on occasion. And to make brave men faint.”
Canlin grumbled as he got to his feet and looked about for his axe. Wren handed it to him but he did not appear all that much happier.
“We’re all together,” Crenshaw said. “It’s not exactly what we planned, but we’re inside the keep and we’re all together, so that counts for something.”
“Are we still going ahead with the plan?” Mannin asked. Far too many heads turned her way for her to be comfortable.
“The problem’s still here,” Crenshaw said, “so we’re still the solution. Fighting our way to the top is going to be difficult now, though.”
“Maybe we won’t have to,” Mannin said, not having realised she had spoken her thoughts aloud. When eyes turned to her once more she decided to press on before her fear could prevent her. “Moya’s going to have heard it’s us attacking, right? And you and Asperathes used to be her friends, Crenshaw. Won’t she want to confront you? I mean, instead of waiting for you to come to her, she might try to find you instead.”
“That depends,” Asperathes said, “on how friendly we think Moya still is. I’m not convinced there’s anything left of the woman we used to know.”
“She’s still in there,” Crenshaw growled. “I just need a chance to talk with her. But Mannin has a point. Karina’s going to know who we are, so what we’ve done is send her a message. Now we should lie low and wait to see how she responds.”
“And,” Wren asked, “if she responds by sending all her soldiers to kill us?”
“Then there’s nothing left of the woman I loved, all right? Is that what you want me to say, Wren? You want my leave to cut off her head or something?”
“I don’t need your leave to do anything, Crenshaw. You’re still an outlaw and, whatever my actions, I’m still your arresting officer.”
Mannin watched the exchange and wondered why they had to be doing this now. “Where are we going to go while we wait for Moya to decide whether she’s going t
o kill us?” she asked.
“We can head for the chapel,” Wren said. “It’s large, defensible and soldiers aren’t like to destroy everything in there just to get to us.”
“This has to be the worst plan I’ve ever been involved with,” Asperathes said. “By the way, Mannin, you have my thanks for saving my life. It doesn’t look as though anyone else has manners enough to say as much, but I want you to know I appreciate the save.”
Mannin had not done what she had in order to receive thanks, but felt a warm swell of pride at the praise.
“If you all want to stand there being nice to Mannin,” Canlin said, “I’ll get Captain Wren to the chapel.”
“You hopeless romantic, you,” Asperathes said, his grin as wide as Canlin’s face was red.
Wren led the way and Mannin brought up their rear. It was not difficult to reach the chapel, which Mannin found surprising considering how many soldiers had been running about the place before. She was grateful for their luck, however, and figured it was about time they caught a break.
The chapel turned out to be a smaller chamber than Mannin had expected. It was a long room with a display at the far end, with cushions and candles. Lining the walls either side were wooden bannisters and a scattering of seats. She did not know what she had thought the chapel would look like, and reasoned she should have paid more attention to the castle whenever she was there.
“This will do,” Asperathes said, quickly checking there were no other exits.
“Won’t we be trapped here when the soldiers come?” Crenshaw asked.
“Nonsense, old man.” Asperathes had placed his head to the wall – which Mannin found odd because she didn’t realise he had any ears – and was rhythmically tapping the walls. “There’s a secret entrance here somewhere.”
“Why does there have to be a secret entrance there somewhere?” Crenshaw asked in a tone which suggested he knew he was in for a lecture.
“Because, for all their faith and love for higher beings,” the apepkith replied, “religious people know full well when soldiers come at them with swords they’re going to need a back … Aha!” He pressed the right stone and a panel in the wall moved inwards, revealing a hidden exit. “Never underestimate the faithlessness of the devout.”
“I don’t get it,” Mannin said. “We haven’t been followed and you’re talking as though we’re definitely going to be attacked here.”
Everyone exchanged glances, which told Mannin she had missed something.
“Uh,” Wren said, “you do realise this was all a trap, right?”
“A trap?”
“We didn’t meet anyone on the way here.”
“I noticed, ma’am.”
“Moya’s pulled all the soldiers back. Whatever she’s planning, she doesn’t want us cut down by just anyone. Whatever she sets against us, it’s going to be horrific.”
“In fact,” Canlin added, “she’s probably coming for us herself just so she can watch our eyeballs melt.”
Mannin’s stomach lurched. Sometimes she wished she could just follow orders and not have to ask for all the gory details.
“I’ll watch the door,” she said.
“Good idea.”
Mannin moved back to the door and stepped outside. The chapel was at the end of a corridor, so it would be impossible for anyone to jump out at her. She supposed it had been designed that way, although tried not to think about the crass comments Asperathes had made regarding the priests. While she watched for enemy movements, she listened with half an ear to the arguments behind her. She knew her team did not get along, which was understandable when the law clashed with outlaws and was forced to band with them. Over the past year, though, Mannin had grown to know Crenshaw and Asperathes and did not think badly of either of them. Asperathes in particular she found always pleasant and ready with a compliment. That he could in the next breath condemn her deities was infuriating, although only displayed the general apepkith superiority complex.
It was something she had grown used to over their time together.
She noticed the corridor ahead was beginning to darken and she frowned, wondering what was happening. There were no windows in the walls here, so it was not as though natural light could be affecting her vision; the light was provided by wall sconces, and all of them were burning. The more she stared, the more she came to understand the darkness, for it was not shadow exactly but some form of cloud seeping into the corridor. Curious, Mannin took a single step towards it, careful not to venture too far since she would need to be able to flee back to the door if necessary.
The cloud was a dark green and clinging to the floor so that it resembled an ululating carpet about a foot thick. It was not moving with any great speed, but was certainly headed her way. She tried to peer beyond it, to see what its source might have been, but she had only taken one step from the chapel and had no intention of risking her life just to gather information about a green cloud. But it was so thick, so spongy, so pleasant looking that she wanted to touch it, wanted to find out whether it was as semi-solid as it appeared. She had never seen its like and just wanted to …
“Mannin! Get back, now!”
Mannin snapped to attention, her mind focused on something other than the cloud. She turned her head to see that she was already ten metres from the chapel. She had only taken a single step, yet she was so far away. Her brain forced images into her memory, of her taking several more steps than she was aware, of the peculiar, enticing cloud and its spongy green texture.
“Mannin!” Wren shouted from the doorway. “Stop daydreaming and get back here!”
Mannin took a step back towards the chapel, but her foot did not rise. She tried again, but it still would not budge. Looking down, she could see the green cloud had enveloped her foot and was moving silently up her leg.
Panic tore at her brain, screaming at her to get her senses together. Then the moment passed and she relaxed as the green cloud continued to wander up her leg. It even felt pleasant and she smiled.
“Mannin.”
The voice was distant now and she wished it would shut up. Her body tingled with an odd feeling and she saw the cloud had taken her hands now and was climbing her arms as well. Within moments it was wrapping its spongy tendrils about her chest and she sighed in contention.
Closing her eyes, she wished the others had come out into the corridor with her. It had been such a long, weary day and they all deserved a little peace. She was so calm, so happy, that she hoped everyone one day would be able to experience the joyful contention she now knew.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Let go of me.”
Canlin had Wren’s back pressed against his chest, his arms held vertically and slid under hers to pin her to him. Wren struggled, but there was nothing she could do to break his hold as she watched Crenshaw slam the door closed.
“We can still save her,” Wren protested.
“Whatever that stuff is,” Crenshaw said, “we’re not getting her out of it.”
“What happened to sticking together, Joe?”
“Saving innocent girls is all well and good, but I’m here to talk to Karina and I can’t do that if I get eaten by a cloud.”
“If you’re so sure Moya won’t hurt you, go out and save her.”
“No.”
Wren continued to struggle, although she no longer saw any point. Her mind was filled with horrible visions of what that cloud was doing to Mannin, yet it had all but enveloped her before Crenshaw had closed the door so there was likely nothing left of the girl. It could well be melting her, digesting her, or at the very least suffocating her.
“Canlin, get off,” she snapped, angry at herself for being grateful that he had saved her life. “That’s an order.”
Canlin released her so quickly she almost fell into the wall. She figured the only reason he had released he at all was because Crenshaw and Asperathes had moved a section of the wooden furniture in front of it.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he
said.
“You disobeyed an order.”
“And I saved you in the process.”
“Mannin’s dead.”
“I don’t know anything about magic clouds, ma’am, so I wasn’t about to take the same chance with you.”
Having nothing else to say to the man, Wren stormed off to find Valok investigating the secret exit. “What do you have in your repertoire that can fight magic clouds?” she demanded.
“If I had anything like that,” he replied, “do you think I’d have my head inside a dark hole praying it’s a decent escape route?”
“I thought we were a team.”
“And I’m as grateful as everyone that Arlene sacrificed herself for us.”
“Arlene?”
Valok paused. “You didn’t know her name?”
Wren looked away, even angrier with herself now. Valok had always been the voice of reason for her, the one telling her not to burn people alive, the one advising her to find more humane ways to solve her problems. It seemed under pressure he was just as bad as Canlin. She expected this sort of attitude from the outlaws, but not from her own men.
“She may not be dead, anyway,” Crenshaw said. “Maybe Karina took her prisoner.”
“Oh, would you stop talking about Karina Moya like she’s some sort of lost lamb,” Wren snapped. “Moya’s a dangerous, sadistic witch who wants us all dead and doesn’t care what she has to do to get that. When will you understand she was using you all that time you were together? You harp on about how cruel and evil Baroness Thade is, but can’t get it through your head that Moya’s a far worse threat than the baroness could ever be. Now one of us is dead, the most innocent one of us is dead, and you’re standing there still lying to yourself that Moya’s one of the good guys.”
“There are no good guys in this world,” Crenshaw replied, “and no, I’m not saying Karina’s perfect. I’m saying she’s untrained, which makes her dangerous. Just ask Valok there. Whatever she’s done, it’s not her fault. The power’s gone to her head and she needs a friendly voice of reason to bring her back. The difference between me and you, Serita, is that I haven’t given up yet. I haven’t made up my mind about Karina, while you’ve already condemned her.”
