“I think that’s it!” Simon exclaimed, turning about to regard the chamber. He had been surprised at how many books there had been. There were at least one hundred, and most were nicely kept and stacked neatly at the back of the chamber. Simon had endeavored to keep a few in consideration of Mr. Darcy, but left the majority of them alone. If he had had more time perhaps he could have rifled through them more, but there were things to do other than glance over a few dusty old books.
The bulk of the treasure was gemstones, precious rocks, shiny things like bronzeware and pocket watches as well as a few silver forks and knives. Everyone from their party was laden with swollen backpacks and bags, and even Simon Todd with his briefcase and spider spun knapsack was feeling rather winded from the few steps they had taken to rejoin Mr. Darcy.
“This is going to be a long trip home,” Simon observed, watching Miss Baxter and Cosette shouldering their burdens over one shoulder. Fae was having much the same experience as he. Her face was already red and she cursed on more than one occasion at the heaviness of her load.
“I feel like we could have prepared better for this… Couldn’t we take two trips?”
Mr. Dashing laughed. “Why wait for tomorrow for what you can accomplish today?”
Simon couldn’t help but envy the man’s unlimited supply of energy. “I think you’ve got that saying backwards,” Simon insisted.
“What I’m saying is that we’ve all gone and loaded it up. The dragon hasn’t returned! We’ll get it to a safe space close to town and then I’ll fetch us a cart so we can discreetly bring it to the house.”
“We ought to bring it to the bank,” Simon said, feeling bad for the poor undead ass slumping from the weight of the gold. “Banks are safer and someone can ensure it all gets split and appraised appropriately.”
“But then we can’t admire it, Mr. Todd!”
“No, but we can ensure it is placed safely in a holding box without the fear of some vagabond overhearing about our venture and robbing us blind in the night.”
“I vote the bank.” Fae grunted from beneath her load.
“It’s a smart choice,” Miss Baxter agreed.
Dashing snorted. “But how are we supposed to roll around in it at the bank?” he whined.
“We’ve all got to make sacrifices, Mr. Dashing.” Simon said with a roll of his eyes.
Far back beyond the inner treasure chamber, Jane Darcy was ducked behind the large stalagmite listening to the idle banter of his fellow party mates. Though he had been making sure to keep his large wings folded in against his body, thumbs hooked together beneath his neck like a cape to ensure he wouldn’t cast an dragon-shaped shadow unintentionally, the spade at the tip of his tail twitched unconsciously from side to side behind him.
The large, purple, diamond-backed dragon peered into the lengthy corridor, agitated Miss Baxter had been unable to break the spell containing his hoard. He had snuck forward once, turning back into his former human self in an attempt to limit the amount of noise he made. He had been furious they had left the books! Uneducated buffoons! Those tomes had been the prize of the entire collection! Sure, they weren’t as shiny or sparkly, but they held so many stories he had memorized and based his current human disposition on.
Jane Darcy had been born from those books! It would take a lifetime, a human one of course, to gather all those novels up again. Mr. Darcy was crushed, horrified, appalled! He’d have to catalogue every volume in his head for later. He had already started, in fact, when he began walking back to the outer chamber to transform again.
At least they had managed everything else, he attempted to quell his anger. His fellow party members were quite resourceful, he had to admit, but of course, his own claw-picked companions would be. Sniffing the air, liking the taste of flame and sulfur on his tongue, Jane raised his large angular snout as he prepared for them to return. His bones had popped nicely back into place after his initial transformation, and he was quite glad to be rid of that horrible pain in his wrist. His clothing and other effects were hidden of course, tucked away beneath a rock for later. Currently, as he waited for the others to traverse the passage with their crew of undead helpers, Jane sat amicably, admiring his reflection in the flooded pool. He had certainly gotten bigger over the last few weeks. He was at least two men tall now, three men lying head to toe wide without including the tail. His long, diamond horns also looked longer and accompanied the sharp spines that ran down the center of his back all the way to the spade at the tip of his tail.
“I hope Mr. Darcy is alright.”
He heard the lovely Miss Hershal say, her accented voice echoing off the walls like acrobats.
Sweet creature, Jane thought, standing on all four legs and unfurling his wings. I shall have to endeavor not to scare you too awfully much. He puffed out his chest, rolling his large, muscled shoulders as he began to walk down the corridor, brushing up against the wall in an attempt to shake bits of loose stone and stalactites free of their perch upon the ceiling.
“Mortals!” he called, his voice hoarse and deep as a chasm. He let out a cloud of dragonfire, watching it snake through the damp air in bluish serpents before combusting loudly before him. The shock of light, followed by the cool blackness of the cave beyond, momentarily silhouetted the purple beast. He fanned out his wings as his companions hollered and scurried back in an effort make him appear larger.
“Gods be damned, the dragon is here!”
He heard Mr. Todd proclaim, causing Mr. Darcy to expose his teeth. Silly gentleman, you’re a ghost! Jane thought.
“What do we do? What do we do?” the accountant continued.
Jane peered down the hall. All five of them were clustered together with Mr. Dashing and Fae Hershal at the front and Miss Baxter at the very end ushering the undead forward. The bright, flaming skull in the center of her crook continued to illuminate the back of the cave in a sphere of light and from beyond that, the damnable wall pulsed in vivid red, made more so by the rubies in the dragon’s eyes.
He saw the gunslinger reach for his weapon, dropping the sacks of gold to spill over the floor like sun kissed wheat. Jane looked fondly over his spilt riches, feeling nostalgic as he waited for Mr. Dashing to unsling the blunderbuss at his shoulder.
“Dare you to think you can penetrate dragon scales with that engineered slingshot?” Jane spat, flame licking his lips as spoke. He found it amusing how frightened they all seemed to be of him, especially Mr. Todd, scrambling at the back closer to Miss Baxter.
“Well we can certainly try!” Dashing said, gritting his teeth as he angled the weapon upwards, ready to fire yet not quite willing to commence a fight against a dragon.
“And fail!” Jane growled. Swinging his tail in an arc, the diamond spade at the end of his tail cut a groove into the wall as Jane lunged forward, roaring in a show of anger. Mr. Dashing, with his magically augmented gun, fired a shower of elements at the infuriated wyrm, no doubt hoping to ascertain some kind of weakness in the creature. Jane had to smile at the young man’s effort, even if it was in vain. Purple, diamond backs had much harder hides than other dragons. The blast of gunfire ricocheted off him, pummelling the walls of the cavern and knocking larger rocks to tumble from the ceiling.
“Bloody hell! Forget the gold we’re gonna be nothin’ but bleedin’ cinders if we don’t get outta ‘ere!” Fae tumbled forward, rolling to the side as Jane swung his tail forward, missing the young girl by a hair.
“No!” Dashing called back, releasing another hail of bullets. “Get as much gold out as we can and run!”
“That stupid gun of yours is as useful as an old log of mud!” Fae continued.
“It’ll distract long enough!”
Mr. Darcy laughed. Opening his large jaws he unleashed another plume of red hot fire in an arch above the ceiling. He only had to destroy the undead at the back, ensure they could not carry his gold away, scare his fellows enough to drop their bags and run as he snapped at their heels. But as he barrelled forw
ard, attempting to shove his companions to the side and trample the undead carriers, Miss Baxter with chains aglow called forth the Hell Lords from the abyss.
“Seven hells! Cosette!” Simon called, half disappearing into the right wall and reappearing next to the small girl’s side. She was standing half way up along the passage corridor, toying with the delicate strings at her wrists nervously. “Let’s go!” Simon commanded as his torso appeared from the other side, taking her by the hand and leading her away as the dragon rushed passed.
Fae was in front of them, but only barely. Simon held fast to his briefcase with one hand and Cosette in the other as the entire cavern began to split asunder. Mr. Dashing was only barely visible beneath the bulk of the fire-breathing wyrm.
“Dick! Let’s go!” There was no doubt in Mr. Todd’s mind that Miss Baxter was intent on summoning Mortimer, and he did not want to be in Death’s presence when he arrived, but neither did he want to leave his friends behind.
“Fae!” he yelled, pushing the briefcase and Cosette towards her. “Take these and leave! Find Jane and get out of here!”
“What in the bleedin’ hell is she doing?”
“Summoning Morty, no doubt!” Simon said, looking back over his shoulder, eyes widening to the size of boiled eggs as ropes of violet smoke began to slither up from out the ground. “Go! Hurry!”
Simon didn’t spare another glance back as he turned, watching as the glove on Miss Baxter’s right arm disintegrated, exposing her skeleton and the violet veins of power she was drawing from the Hellscape.
Jane Darcy had been slightly perturbed by the probability of this outcome. Out of all his companions, the ambitions of Penelope Baxter and her desire for his gold was his worst worry of all. The power that the sorceress controlled, the capability of her Hell Lord, though he hadn’t experienced it first hand, was bothersome.
With no other choice, Jane let out another burst of dragonfire, watching as the young girl was engulfed. Her form turned black in the torrent of his attack. Smoke as thick as water roiled over the stony walls, forcing Dick Dashing to retreat back. Even with the use of his goggles, the flood of smoke, magic and fire was too intense to see anything.
“Mr. Todd!” he called, rubbing at the lenses of his goggles, feeling his eyes burning from the smoke and debris clogging the air. “Get out with what you can!”
Simon could see Salvador walking ahead through the smoke. Most of the saddle bags had been ripped open or become unattached, but the few that remained swung lazily at the beast’s flanks.
“What about Miss Baxter?” he called back, startled when a large shard of rock broke off and cascaded through him.
“She’ll be fine! Head to the cavern entrance!”
Simon swore he saw the gunslinger run through him, head down and hat lowered as he grabbed the reins of the undead donkey. Chewing his lip in nervous frustration, Simon considered following after, all his cowardly inclinations urging for him to vacate the dragon’s cave post haste. But as he turned, teetering on the edge of his heels, Mr. Todd recalled the confrontation at Grimguild, the hold Mortimer had taken over Miss Baxter and how much it had taken for her to come back to him from the Hellscape.
“I can’t,” he whispered, feeling his nerves painfully claw at his brain in protest. “I can’t leave her behind.”
It was difficult to see. The light of fire and magic was dulled behind the thick shroud of smoke, but as Simon Todd walked forward, hearing the hiss and snap of dragon teeth, he saw a pool of purple light and walked towards it.
Jane inhaled, stepping back from the recoil of his flame burst as the spectral chains belonging to Miss Baxter began to flail around him. Like branches in a gale they whipped fiercely about, longer than he remembered. The purple dragon roared, lurching with sharp jaws towards the chained fetters. Feeling nothing but the heavy air wisp through his jaws, Jane stepped back, lowering his majestic head and neck as something began to crawl out the large fissure in his cavern floor.
Obscured in the violet light that emanated from Miss Baxter’s spot upon the stone, the creature opened its large toothy maw, lined in graying, mustard teeth, as the hollow cavities encompassing his eye sockets and nasal openings emerged like chasms. They were ebony recesses amidst the vibrant color of magic, terrifying and malignant. Mr. Todd tried to run, but his legs wouldn’t work, his eyes wide with the whites showing around the iris. The creature yowled its displeasure in one chilling blood curdling scream.
“Good evening, Miss Baxter,” it said directly after, hovering in mid-air. Simon Todd recalled the shroud wearing wraith from before, a graying skeleton with horrible eyes, wearing a dark robe that drifted in an out at the edges. It was there one moment, staring at him with wicked fascination, than transformed the next, into the bored, suit wearing bald man from before.
“I’ve a lot to do today so I hope the situation is dire,” Mortimer Grim said, examining his cufflinks which were no more than small, silver shackles attached through the cuff of his shirt.
Jane Darcy with ruby eyes stared through the lingering smoke at the round man in business attire, noticing Miss Baxter just beyond.
“Mortimer,” she called, her mouth covered with one hand.
Jane could see the young lady gesture towards him, commanding the Hell Lord to engage. Mr. Darcy inhaled again, his chest swelling as he stretched his wings as far as he was able. He had to admit, the Grim Reaper certainly cut less than an intimidating figure.
“You’re fighting a dragon?” The man sighed, taking a few steps forward to regard the creature more thoroughly. “That’s rather unfortunate.”
“Why is that?” Jane finally said, reptilian eyes narrowing as he watched Mr. Todd run up to the tired sorceress. She was lying upon the ground, dress covered in soot and ash, burned at the edges, but otherwise unsinged. Jane surmised that reviving those undead as well as preventing the dragonfire and summoning Morty was taking its toll on her physically.
“Well it takes a lot of paperwork to kill a dragon,” Mortimer explained, frowning. “Dragons have been unionized since the last apocalypse. We consider them like lesser Hell Lords.”
“Let’s go, Miss Baxter, while they’re all having a jolly chin wag,” Simon said nervously, helping the young sorceress to her feet.
“But the gold…” she began.
“Never mind that now. Come on.”
Jane tossed his head to one side, smoke slithering out his nostrils. “So what will you do if I kill your sorceress?” he asked, feeling rather chuffed that the Grim Reaper considered his kind a colleague.
“Well,” Mortimer replied, smoothing down the folds of his lapels, “I’d be bound to defend her, but I’d rather not have to have a meeting with your union. That would incur even more paperwork.” He rolled his eyes at the thought, looking rather sour about the entire, hypothetical, ordeal. “You wouldn’t be blameless either. I give your kind immortality in exchange for a healthy amount of souls. Essentially we provide for each other without having to encounter one another. Right now we aren’t really abiding by that now, are we?”
“Your host is stealing from my hoard.”
“Yes. It’s a sticky situation. Though I’m of the opinion that you’re deeper entrenched in it than I.”
Jane moved his head closer, sniffing at the portly gentleman with pointed teeth exposed. He could hear his companions moving away, thinking they were sneaking out of reach without him knowing. The gold upon the floor, the smashed skeletons, everything seemed to stand still as he gazed into Mr. Grim’s eyes and saw the Hellscape in his pupils.
“I don’t understand your meaning, Mortimer Grim.”
The man smiled, rather smugly Jane judged, folding his arms in front of himself as he leaned forward on the balls of his feet.
“I think you’re stuck between a rock and hard place. Friendship has a way of doing that to you, doesn’t it?” Grim cocked his head, looking to the side and watching with enrapt fascination as Mr. Todd ran down the passage with Miss Ba
xter.
“Did you know,” Death continued, looking back into the face of the purple, diamond backed dragon. “that the name Jane is usually reserved for girls?”
Chapter 41
In Which A Long Series Of Carefully Crafted Tea Puns Blend
They had all reconvened at the mouth of the cavern. Only the steady stream of starlight was left to illuminate the way now that the sun had set. Simon Todd with Miss Baxter beneath his arm, found his fellow companions just as he exited, all out of breath with large eyes filled with worry.
“Simon, thank the bloody gods yer alright!” Fae said, running forward to clasp the young gentleman about the neck.
“Please,” he said, passing Miss Hershal the faint sorceress. “I can’t hold her anymore.” Simon exhaled as she was taken from him and collapsed back upon the ground as he felt himself go incorporeal once more. The strain of maintaining his body for so long left him exhausted to the point in which he no longer cared if he got dirt upon his trousers.
“What about Mr. Darcy?” Cosette asked, walking towards Simon and peering back into the consuming maw of the cave. “Did you not see him?”
“We thought he was with you.” Simon looked up with concern, legs splayed out in front of him like a toddler at play. “He wasn’t there when we passed by.”
He watched the two ladies look back towards Mr. Dashing who was regarding the entrance with interest. “Let’s not jump to wild ideas yet,” the gunslinger said with a reassuring smile. “Good ol’ Mr. Darcy probably hid when he heard the dragon approach. A scholar like him has a good head on his shoulders.”
“Shouldn’t we hurry back inside then? Before the dragon comes back out?”
Dick looked down, uneasy at the prospect of re-entering. “Is the dragon going to come back out, Mr. Todd?”
Simon looked up, hands to either side of him with palms pressed flat to the ground. “How am I supposed to know?”
“Well you were the last in there.”
The Curious Case of Simon Todd Page 44
