by Rob J. Hayes
Like all those before, this one smelled stale and dusty. There was little of any real note. Over a thousand years had long since turned all but the most sturdy of items to dust. Here and there tarnished metal glinted underneath the rubble and dust; some of it might even be valuable. To Keelin it was worthless. The real treasure of HwoyonDo lay in its magical accomplishments, and there was one in particular that interested him.
Not for the first time, Keelin hoped the creature who had sold him the information had been truthful. If he’d come all this way and sacrificed so much only to be cheated of his vengeance… He let the thought hang, unsure how he would react in such a situation.
The buildings were large and spacious. With all the doors long since rotted away to nothing, he could see the next skybridge, two rooms further on, and hoped this one would correct his course. Keelin made it through the first room and into the second before he again heard the scuff of shoes behind him; this time it sounded far closer.
“Damnit, woman,” Keelin growled, turning to give Aimi a shouting at that would hopefully send her back to the others.
The figure that stood at the entrance to the skybridge was definitely not Aimi. Keelin couldn’t see the man properly, the light shining from behind rendering him nothing more than a large silhouette, but it was certainly a man – and a big one at that.
Keelin moved a hand to the hilt of one of his cutlasses and raised his voice. “Hello?”
The figure took a lurching step forward, and Keelin felt the tension flood out of him as he recognised Bronson. How the man had found them after disappearing the previous night was beyond him, but Keelin was glad, nonetheless, that the big pirate had survived his disappearance.
“Where have you been?” he said.
Bronson didn’t answer. He took another lurching step forwards. A second figure darted in from the skybridge behind him. Keelin drew his sword in a flash and rushed forwards, only making it as far as the doorway before the second figure turned to face Bronson.
Elaina stood in front of the pirate, swaying slowly from side to side. Keelin watched as the big man mimicked her movements.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Keelin said.
“Quiet!” Elaina hissed, holding out a hand behind her and pointing towards Keelin, all the while keeping up her steady swaying.
“What is this, Elaina?” Keelin took another step forward and froze. He could see Bronson’s face now, and it was a mess of open, oozing wounds that almost looked self-inflicted, as if the big man had torn at his own face with his fingernails. One eye was missing, a gooey hole where it should have been, and the other was as black as the darkest night.
“This ain’t your man no more, Keelin,” Elaina said slowly, still swaying from side to side. Bronson mimicked her, as if in some sort of trance.
“Then who is he?”
“Fuck,” Elaina snapped. “Would you just shut up and trust me for once?”
“Last time I trusted you it almost got me killed.”
Elaina was still facing Bronson, her arms spread out as she moved, as if she were balancing on a narrow railing.
“Well, ya either trust me now, Keelin, or I can let this thing loose and we’ll see how you fair.”
“I’ve got my swords.”
Elaina snorted. “Steel won’t stop this. There a way out behind you?”
Keelin glanced back. The next skybridge was a room and a half away, no more than twenty feet, he guessed. “Aye.”
“Then start backing towards it, slowly as ya like. Let me know when ya get there, eh?” There was a note of something in Elaina’s voice, and it sounded a lot like fear. It wasn’t something Keelin was used to hearing from her.
He began to walk backwards, slowly, one foot after the other after the other. His sword was still drawn, but after Elaina’s claim, he was starting to doubt its usefulness. She kept up her slow swaying, Bronson – or whatever it was – still copying her. Keelin took another step, and his back bumped against the door frame, sending a chunk of brick the size of his head tumbling to the floor with a crash.
“Fuck!” Elaina shouted, and she turned towards him, the fear now plain on her face. “Run!”
Keelin turned and stumbled over the rubble he’d just dislodged, steadying himself with a hand to the floor. He launched into a sprint towards the skybridge, sure that both Elaina and Bronson were only steps behind him.
The room sped past in a blur of grey and brown dust, light shining in from the doorway in front of him. Keelin rushed through the portal, and it took too long for his eyes to adjust to the change in light. Too late, he realised the skybridge was down. He didn’t have time to think – he barely had time to react. His foot hit the rubble that was the end of the skybridge and he pushed off, leaping forwards and at the same moment seeing just how distant the other side of the bridge was. He was already falling, and safety was so far away. He threw up his arms, hoping to catch hold of the ledge, all that was left of the far side of the bridge.
Rough stone smashed into Keelin’s face, and the light went both dim and bright at the same time. He felt his sword fall from his grip to go tumbling to the ground, where he knew he would soon join it. Then his fingers hit the ledge, and he gripped instinctively, holding on with every drop of strength he could muster.
Opening his eyes, Keelin saw the drop below and a wave of vertigo swept over him, twisting his vision. He heard a grunt from above and the sound of leather boots skidding on stone. Looking up, he saw Elaina above him, her expression frantic.
Elaina’s hands gripped hold of his own, and she braced and pulled.
“Can’t do this alone,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Keelin pulled. His fingers, hands, and arms burned from the effort. Slowly he began to rise. After a few moments his arms were above the ledge, and Elaina pulled him into the safety of the building.
Keelin rolled onto his back and sucked in lungful after lungful of air. His heart was beating loudly in his ears and he could feel every limb shaking with either exertion or fear or, more likely, both.
“Get up, Keelin,” Elaina growled. The woman was already on her feet, staring out across the gap they’d just leapt.
A grim chuckle escaped Keelin’s lips as he rolled onto his front and struggled to get his feet beneath him. His arms and legs ached, and his face stung like it had recently had an unfortunate meeting with a stone wall. He was fairly certain there was nothing funny about his current situation, definitely nothing worth chuckling about, but he laughed all the same. The laugh died in his throat when he looked out across the gap and saw exactly what had become of Bronson.
The pirate stood on the far side, waiting across the broken skybridge. His face was a red mask of torn flesh and muscle, with bone showing beneath. Part of his lip had been torn away to reveal teeth and gums. Bronson’s hands were even worse. His fingers looked as if they’d been chewed on by animals, the flesh eaten away to show the bones, which looked like they’d been sharpened to points.
“He’s only been gone a few hours,” Keelin whispered. “What happened to him?”
“Spirits,” Elaina said as she paced back and forth, never taking her eyes from Bronson. “They got inside of him. Infested his body and soul. Ain’t nothing left of the man you sailed with, Keelin. They’re all over him. In him.”
Keelin shook his head. He’d seen some nasty things in his time at sea, but the idea that something had crawled inside one of his crew and turned the man into… something else – Keelin didn’t feel prepared to deal with that sort of monster.
“You remember the forests on the Isle of Goats?” Elaina said. “I used to take you there from time to time. Every now and then we’d come across someone who seemed lost. They just wandered about, unaware and unresponsive.”
“Aye,” Keelin said. “I remember. You used to say the forest had got to them. That’s what Tanner was always telling folk about. The reason he had all those wards placed.”
“Well, those were spirit
s,” Elaina continued, still watching Bronson. “Only, those ones weren’t violent for the most part. They’d get stuck inside of people and couldn’t find their way out.”
She looked at Keelin. “There’s spirits here too. All over the jungle and all over the city. But these ones ain’t so placid. Don’t reckon they take too kindly to us intruders. They want us good and gone, any way they can get it.”
Bronson turned slowly and walked back into the dark room. Keelin took in a deep breath. He’d known they would encounter magic in HwoyonDo – he’d been counting on it – but spirits were something else entirely.
“How can you…”
“Shh,” Elaina hissed.
Keelin shut his mouth and listened. He could hear a rhythmic thumping, getting faster and closer. He looked up.
Bronson reappeared out of the doorway at the other end of the broken skybridge and leapt towards them, flying through the air. Elaina reacted first, dashing forwards and jumping just as Bronson landed on their side of the bridge. She hit the big pirate with both feet and dropped to the floor, scrabbling to get away as Bronson teetered on the edge, his big arms waving back and forth.
Keelin started forwards, drawing his remaining cutlass with his left hand and passing it to his right. There was a crack, and the stone beneath Bronson fell away, taking the possessed pirate with it.
For a brief moment Keelin thought it was over, and he stopped, but Bronson caught hold of what was left of the ledge with his shredded fingers and held tight.
Keelin stepped forward, raising his cutlass and bringing it down on Bronson’s left hand. The blade cut through flesh and bone and rang as it connected with the stone beneath, but failed to sever the hand. With a wild jerk of his arm, Bronson tore Keelin’s cutlass from his grip and sent it sailing into the street below to join its partner.
Elaina grabbed hold of Keelin by the shoulders and turned him to face her. Fear and excitement had flushed her cheeks; it made her beautiful, and there was a wild look in her eyes that Keelin remembered well. Despite the danger, or maybe because of it, Elaina was enjoying herself.
“Run,” Elaina hissed, and she turned, fleeing deeper into the building at a sprint. Keelin took one last look at the monster Bronson had become as it struggled to pull itself up from the ledge, and chased after Elaina.
Chapter 38 - The Phoenix
“How are your hands?” the Five Kingdoms priest said as they marched through the abandoned streets.
“Stinging like an arse with the shits,” Aimi growled, with a bit more venom than she’d intended. The priest didn’t deserve her anger. With neither Keelin nor Elaina anywhere nearby, Aimi was directing her ire at whoever would have it.
“Perhaps I should have a look at them again next time we stop. I may have an ointment that would help.”
“Save it. I’ve had worse.” Aimi fell silent and the priest followed suit, though he stayed close, sending furtive glances her way.
Kebble was in front, leading the way, with Smithe beside him. The surly quartermaster was in charge, and that worried Aimi even more than the missing captains. Smithe was no fan of Keelin, or anybody for that matter, and it was more than possible that he would try to find a way to leave the captain to rot in HwoyonDo. Aimi knew she shouldn’t care. Keelin had been a fool, running off on his own, but no matter how much of an arse he might act, Aimi still cared for him.
Jotin and Jolan appeared from a nearby building, their faces betraying their unhappiness. They quickly moved to join the rest of the group, falling in just behind Smithe.
“More of nothing,” Jolan said with a sigh. “Everything here is long since rotted to dust. City is fucking dead.”
“That’s the third time ya’ve come back with nothing,” Smithe growled at the brothers. “Starting ta think ya ain’t looking right.”
“You wanna go have a fucking peek?” Jolan said. “Be my guest.”
Smithe turned and gave Jolan a hard shove that unbalanced the pirate and put him on his arse. Jotin’s hand moved to his sword, but one glare from Smithe convinced him not to draw the length of steel.
“Which one of us is in charge?” Smithe hissed.
Jolan let out a sigh and got his feet beneath him. “You are, Smithe. Sorry, mate.”
“Damned right I am. What I say goes, and I’m sending you two cunts off to look for treasure.”
“Ain’t nothing here, Smithe,” Jotin said. “We found a plate and a jug, and a couple of spoons, but… there ain’t nothing here. Kebble said the city has been abandoned for thousands of years. Things just don’t last that long.”
“Metal don’t rot,” Smithe said. “Gold don’t rot. Gems don’t rot.”
“There ain’t none of those things here,” Jotin said. “Unless ya want us to go back and get the spoons.”
“It’d be something.”
“At the first sign of the war starting, many people fled the city. I would assume they took anything of value with them,” Kebble said without looking back. “The streets were chaos. People were trampled underfoot.”
“So what the fuck are we doing here if there ain’t no treasure?” Smithe snarled.
“The temple will still house its riches. The priests would not have fled. No matter how much death rained down upon them, they would stay. And they were more than capable of fighting off any looters who may have mistaken the chaos for an opportunity.”
The group marched on in silence for a while. Aimi shielded her eyes and looked towards the sky. The sun was long past its zenith, and it was possible the light would start to wane soon. Being in the dead city after dark wasn’t something that appealed to her, but then neither was spending another night in the forest.
“I do not believe that man is as cracked as he appears,” Elaina’s priest whispered to Aimi. “He may actually be as old as these ruins.”
“Let’s bloody well hope so,” Aimi said quietly.
“Why?”
“Because if he ain’t, then none of us have a clue where we’re going.”
She’d been right about the light. By the time they reached the temple, the last rays were disappearing over the tops of the gigantic buildings that surrounded them. Even worse were the long shadows that turned simple doorways into dark voids housing hundreds of terrors. There was something else too. Aimi couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was being watched.
It was a strange sensation, like insects crawling over her skin between her shoulders, and she always felt it when unknown eyes were tracking her. After years of working in a tavern, surrounded by pirates, she’d come to trust the unease.
“That it?” Smithe said, disbelief plain in his voice.
“Yes,” Kebble said with a smile. “The Temple of the Grace.”
“Grace? That the god’s name?”
Kebble shook his head. “I will not speak his true name.”
“Why not?” Pavel said.
“Because I am the only one alive who remembers it, and I would prefer it lost and forgotten.” Kebble laughed. “I’m a little bitter.”
The temple was squat compared to the buildings around it. It was long and wide and stood only a few storeys tall, topped with a domed roof surrounded by a wide saucer-like ledge supported by pillars that rose up out of the earth. Vines clung to the building like leeches, winding their way up the pillars and infesting the windows, yet no damage seemed to have been done to the structure.
Aimi glanced at the nearby buildings and then back to the temple. “Ain’t none of the others covered in those vines,” she said quietly. “Why, then, is the temple?”
The rest of the party looked equally as stumped, and even Kebble offered no answer to the question.
“I don’t like this,” Aimi continued, again feeling like she was being watched. “Something here ain’t right.”
“Stow it, bitch,” Smithe growled. “Cap’n ain’t here to flap ya cunt at, and I’m in charge. Treasure is in there, and that’s where we’re going. Ain’t fucking leaving this shit hole w
ithout some sort of payoff.”
Aimi looked at Kebble. The immortal merely shrugged in return. The remaining light was fading fast, and if they went inside the temple, Aimi guessed it would be well into the night by the time they came back out.
“Let’s get some torches lit then,” Smithe said after a few long moments of everyone standing around, clearly not wanting to go any further. “Stick close and keep ya eyes open for anything might be worth something, eh?”
“I will wait out here,” Kebble said.
“Fuck that, mate,” Smithe snapped, instantly squaring up to the marksman. “You the only one knows where shit is. We need ya in there.”
Kebble shook his head slowly. “I will never again set a foot in the temple of that god. He’s the bastard who cursed me. Besides, I’ll wager you’re all safer in there without me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I will wait out here.”
Smithe growled and stalked away.
“Can I wait out here too?” Jotin said, his voice quivering.
“No!” Smithe shouted. “Everyone else is coming with me. Now.”
There was a small set of steps leading up to the temple entrance, only eight in total, each more foreboding than the last as Aimi mounted them. Even the flickering torch she lit did little to bolster her courage. There was simply something off about the entire city, and the feeling was stronger here. One glance at the rest of the group convinced her they all felt the same way. Even Smithe looked worried, fat drops of sweat beading on his forehead.
The door to the temple was made of stone, and it looked as pristine as the day it had been made. There was no visible lock, only a number of designs chiselled into its surface. Aimi recognised none of the symbols and had little time to study them. Smithe handed his torch to Jotin, placed his hands against the door, and pushed. The sound of stone grating against stone shattered the quiet. It seemed unnaturally loud, echoing around the city behind them.
