by Stead, Nick
“In modern human society. Humans were just fine with marrying off their young daughters before they’d fully matured not so long ago. But we’re not human and you’re mature enough – you can’t knock a knocker for looking.”
I rubbed my neck and looked away. “I’ll take the compliment, I guess. Now can we focus on getting down there and then finding a way out of this godforsaken place?”
“Sorry,” Zee said. “Let’s continue on, then.”
The two sisters, Varin and Amy had almost crossed the length of passage visible through the window, without any harm coming to them. I was about to turn away and was just beginning to relax slightly when an orange glow appeared in their tunnel, just up ahead of them. Dread filled me as I realised what it was.
“No!” I yelled, unheard by the four below.
A jet of flame roared into life, shooting down the passage and heading right for our friends, and my sister. I tried screaming again, urging them to turn back and run for safety. But even bellowing at the top of my lungs, still my cries were as powerless to break through the sound-proofed barriers as my physical self had been through the glass. And supernaturally gifted though all of them but Amy were, it seemed it had still happened too fast for them to have time to react. There was nothing I could do but watch helplessly as the fire engulfed them.
CHAPTER TWENTY–THREE
Death to the Wolf
I sprinted down the passage, not caring whether I was plunging into danger or whether Zee and Gwyn were following. All that mattered was finding a way into the other tunnel. After everything I’d been through to save Amy, I refused to believe she’d been taken from me again and placed firmly back in Death’s clutches.
Stone walls rushed by as I ran, dimly lit by the flame imitation bulbs in their brackets, the same as in every other passage. There was no evidence of any further hidden doors and I didn’t waste time looking for any, pushing myself onwards until finally I skidded to a stop at the end of a raised platform in another large chamber.
This end of the passageway wasn’t set anywhere near as high up from the floor as it had been in the room with Hannah as bait. I would be able to jump down from the rocky ledge I was on without doing myself any injury, and I intended to give myself only a moment to pause and catch my breath before doing so. But my eyes were immediately drawn to the far wall, and I froze.
Fierce amber eyes, filled with such rage and murderous intent that I might have been looking into a mirror, fixed me with their burning gaze. Slavering jaws filled with deadly fangs were parted in a roar that looked to be equal parts fury and agony, flecks of blood falling from them and down the stone they were painted on. Here was another image in the same kind of goth style I’d favoured in my human life, decorating the wall like the painting of the Reaper had in that earlier passage. There were no words that I could see to accompany this one but the message was clear enough, for the huge likeness of my wolf form was impaled by a sword. He stood reared up on his back legs, the blade piercing right through his chest. No hand was depicted holding the weapon but there was plenty of gory detail, more blood raining down from the fatal wound with a large pool of it painted around the wolf’s paws.
It seemed the end of the dungeon had been even closer than Gwyn had implied. I must have been standing in the final chamber, the image there to let me know I was about to meet my end. That surely meant that the demon we were meant to fight was about to appear at any minute, though from where was anyone’s guess.
“Sorry to disappoint you, David, but my death will have to wait,” I said, tearing my eyes from the image and focusing them on the nearest camera. Once again I had no way of knowing if he could hear me, but it didn’t matter. As before when I’d spoken to the cameras, just saying the words out loud made me feel better, if nothing else.
I turned my attention to the rest of the chamber. More stone, unbroken by any apparent doors, met my eyes as they roamed across the walls, confirming my suspicion that I’d reached the end of the dungeon. Unless they were just really well hidden like some of the others I’d encountered, but the more my eyes kept straying to the image of the wounded wolf, the more convinced I became that this was the arena David had picked for the ‘final boss’ battle.
Only one other doorway stood open just to the left of the base of the rocky ledge, which surely had to be the passage the others were in. And too concerned for the safety of my sister, I didn’t stop to think about what might trigger the last fight or where my enemy might appear from. I didn’t consider the possibility that the demon might be able to simply materialise in the room with me, perhaps by some command from David or one of his pet spellcasters. I didn’t take the time to ask myself: if this were the kind of video game David had modelled the dungeon on, what would likely happen next?
“Nick!”
Gwyn and Zee were calling for me from somewhere back down the passage I’d just come from, but I didn’t even wait to find out what they wanted. No, I didn’t have time for any of that.
I jumped down with little thought for my own safety. It was only then that I saw the second opening in the rock, gaping dark and wide like the mouth of some great beast. And from within the blackness, movement stirred.
Another stony panel ground into action, sliding down and across the doorway into the tunnel I was so desperate to reach. A second one closed off my escape back into the passage above. I should have known better than to walk right into this latest trap, but by then it was already too late. Enemies began to stream from that mouth of Hell – not the huge demon I’d been expecting but more of the necromancer’s puppets, though these were all skeletons reanimated to fight, rather than more zombie corpses in varying states of decomposition.
Each bony hand grasped a sword. They bore no shields and wore no armour, and yet, as the skeletal warriors poured out from the darkness, I couldn’t help but feel I’d stepped out of the real world and right into a fantasy game. David certainly deserved points for making it personalised – it was exactly the type of scenario I would have enjoyed if it had been the kind of virtual reality brought to me on the PlayStation, or if I’d been watching this happen to fictional characters in a movie, or even reading about it in a book. But no matter how much like a fantasy scenario it felt, this was real, and there would be no extra lives granted. Maybe I’d been wrong about it all ending in a big boss fight after all. Maybe this was how David wanted to watch me die: cut off from my friends and allies and impaled on the sword of one of the skeletal warriors, just like the wolf in the painting on the wall. And he may very well get his wish.
Vastly outnumbered against foes that I lacked the means to stop, I could only back away from the dozens of skeletons surging out of the dark gateway that might as well have led to Hell itself. They didn’t launch into an immediate attack but instead formed up around that section of the chamber, making any attempt at trying to get through to the passage where I’d last seen Amy, Varin and the Wilton sisters impossible. I knew I’d be cut down long before I could locate any more hidden buttons or pressure pads or the like. And I didn’t hold much hope for finding an escape route in the passage they were spilling from either. I had a feeling it would only prove to be a dead end, even if I could fight my way through to it.
I didn’t know what good it would do me to keep backing up when there was nowhere to run. But I was all too aware that it was a fight I wasn’t likely to win so I kept on retreating, until finally my back pressed up against the wall with its gruesome pictorial message.
I didn’t dare take my eyes from the dead warriors, expecting them to attack at any moment. There was no time to search for any hidden doors that might not have been visible to my naked eye, though I didn’t really expect to be met with any joy there either. My one and only hope was to try and even the odds a little before the skeletons were commanded to attack. The time had come to call on the transformation again, and I’d just have to pray I could take it far enough in time to give me more of a chance to somehow come out of this fig
ht alive.
So I focused on the greater strength and bestial fury of my lupine side, ready to embrace the pain and the rush of power that came with unleashing my primal nature in the most physical sense. I let my rage and bloodlust rise up in preparation for the fight ahead, and I concentrated on that feral might and altering my form from human to beast, and within moments I felt – nothing. No sensation of my blood boiling, no itching along my skin as fur sprouted, no aching of teeth growing and sharpening into fangs or the unpleasantness of my face stretching outwards into a great muzzle meant for ripping and tearing. Fear stabbed through me. Precious minutes ticked by but no matter how hard I concentrated on willing the change to begin, still I remained trapped in my weaker human form.
A terrible realisation hit me. What if the message painted on the wall at my back wasn’t meant to indicate my death as I’d first thought – what if it was literally the death of my wolf form? And it seemed to me there was only one explanation for what was happening. The injection had been meant for me, not to weaken me physically or kill me (though no doubt David considered those to be acceptable side effects) but to block the power of my transformation somehow.
Whether it was only temporary or permanent remained to be seen. The Slayers themselves might not even have the answer to that one, since they wouldn’t have been able to experiment with the serum on any other werewolves. Gwyn had seen them testing it on zombies and ghouls, presumably because they were the best test subjects they could lay their hands on. But I guessed that had been purely to try and gauge whether it would kill me outright, as Gwyn had seen happen to some of the guinea pigs, or if I was likely to survive long enough to suffer the desired effect of being stripped of my ability to shapeshift. I could only hope that the effects would be temporary and that my body would soon overcome it, so I could regain the full power of my lycanthropic nature. Until then, I might as well have been a mortal teenage boy again.
I was granted long enough to discover just how dire my situation was. Then the moment passed, and the dead attacked.
CHAPTER TWENTY–FOUR
Mortal Danger
Bone clacked across stone, the skeletons charging towards me with blades held high. And there I stood, naked and without any of the natural weapons of my wolf form to pit against them, lacking even the boost in strength I could usually rely on as part of my lycanthropy. Hand to hand combat would do me little good against the sheer number of armed enemies I was facing, especially when they couldn’t be stopped as easily as mortal foes. I knew I stood little chance of leaving the chamber alive, unless David allowed me to walk out of there so he could prolong my suffering a little longer.
Another surge of adrenaline pumped through my system. The first few skeletons were upon me, blades flashing in the dim light as they hacked and stabbed. Somehow I managed to dodge their swords, diving to the floor before any could find their mark. It was from down there that I noticed another sword had been left for me to take up and wield against my foes, so I guessed David still didn’t want me to die just yet.
I rolled away with sword in hand, sparks flying as cold steel struck the stone where I’d just been. Springing back to my feet, I brought the blade up to block another attack. It was much slower than it should have been, partly due to the effects of the injection I’d been given and partly because the balance of the blade felt a little off.
I couldn’t parry all the blows coming my way, given the sheer number of enemies I faced. Blood was soon trickling down my offhand arm where a sword nicked it, the cut stinging with a fierce intensity. The damage should have been a lot worse but I guessed the skeletons were being made to pull their blows so I didn’t die too quickly. But even if the aim wasn’t to kill me in that room, I wasn’t going to be allowed an easy escape.
Another cut opened up across the top of my thigh. I battled on, all the while trying to work out how exactly I was meant to get out of this one. Maybe I just had to hold on long enough for the doors to open up again? Or maybe the door the skeletons had come from did lead somewhere after all. But running in there would be risky – I could end up trapped in the darkness, and when I was facing opponents I had no way of stopping, it could well be the death of me. At least in the open I had more room to move and light to see by.
I did my best to keep ducking and dodging as many of the attacks as I could. It wasn’t easy with my back against the wall, especially when the skeletons had me surrounded, but I knew my best hope was to keep evading as many of the blows as I could. I couldn’t avoid them all though and more cuts began to open up on my limbs and my torso.
As the minutes wore on, I began to think this chamber was to be my tomb and that I would soon become no more than another one of the necromancer’s dead minions, enslaved to his will for as long as it suited him. Or her. I had no idea who was controlling the dead but I felt certain it wasn’t David. Nothing supernatural had ever happened around him before I’d become a werewolf, so I doubted he’d suddenly found any supernatural power since. And surely he wouldn’t have had need of the Slayers’ resources to have his revenge if he did wield that kind of power.
I vaguely wondered how necromancy worked – whether I’d hear a voice in my head compelling me to do what he or she wanted or whether it would be more subtle. Would I even know my thoughts were being shaped at all, and my actions guided? Maybe I’d be lucky enough to be spared the fate of becoming an undead slave. Lady Sarah had already explained that not every dead body was capable of becoming a zombie – it was only those whose souls were tied to the earthly plane that could be bound to their flesh in the necromantic mockery of life. Given that particular limitation, you might think it unlikely that every dead body we’d encountered in that place had successfully been reanimated. My best guess is the necromancer had already handpicked the corpses for use in the dungeon, the Slayers only bringing in those they knew would rise from the grave when their master called. And the blood sacrifice required to raise them must have been offered before we were brought in as well.
Just as it seemed all was lost, stone exploded outwards from the lower passageway. A figure stepped through the dust and a wave of skeletons from the back peeled away to deal with this newcomer. I barely had chance to register it was Lady Sarah, alive and seemingly unscathed, despite what my eyes had shown me. And there she was, come to my rescue once again.
Cold, fierce eyes glowed blue, her lips curled in a feral snarl, and the ten or so skeletons charging towards her went the same way as the stone panel, bursting into dust. Even the enemy necromancer’s power wasn’t enough to keep them going now.
Their swords clattered to the ground, all that was left of them. I was beginning to think that by ‘changed’ Lady Sarah had meant she was more powerful, but such power always comes with a price. That unnatural light in her eyes faded and she swayed, grabbing the wall to steady herself.
More skeletons peeled away to charge her. Lady Sarah fought the weariness and stood strong once more, the glow returning to those shards of ice glaring out of her skull. But a hand appeared on her shoulder, her sister stepping through the doorway and, to my relief, Varin beside her, with Amy still alive and sitting on his back.
I struggled to make out what was said over the clash of the skeletons’ swords against my own, but whatever the serum I’d been given had done to block my full lycanthropic powers, it hadn’t taken away my supernaturally enhanced senses. My hearing was still acute enough that I just managed to catch Selina’s words.
“Wait! Don’t use up all your strength – there’s too many to destroy them all. Can’t you take control of them?”
“That is not how necromancy works and you know it, sister,” Lady Sarah hissed, shaking herself free of Selina’s grasp.
“Not normally, but if your powers have grown then it might be possible.”
“Even if it were, it would drain me as surely as crushing them all with my mind will. At least we know this way will definitely work.”
Selina sounded like she was on the
verge of losing her temper. “Then why not use that force to break the panel sealing off the other passageway, where the rest of our allies are? We don’t need to stop the dead, merely slow them long enough for Nick to get away so we can escape to a safer part of the dungeon. Gwyn might be able to point us in the right direction.”
“As you wish.”
The skeletal warriors were almost upon them when Lady Sarah unleashed that invisible force a third time, blasting the other panel as Selina had suggested. It seemed to take less effort just to use her power on that single target, for she showed no signs of weakness that time, fearlessly striding forward to meet her foes once the door had been shattered. One of the fallen blades leapt into her hand and she engaged the necromancer’s pawns in combat. Her sword became a blur as she cleaved through bone in a deadly dance, evading her opponent’s strikes with much more ease than I ever could, even if it hadn’t been for the debilitating serum in my veins.
Zee rushed through the door and out onto the same raised platform I’d come in on, sword already drawn. He jumped straight down and charged into the battle, cutting down his foes just as easily as Lady Sarah. I had a glimpse of Gwyn entering the chamber as well but I soon lost sight of him again.
Selina stayed back with Varin and Amy. There was little she could do without the proper tools of her craft, as handy as it would have been right then. For even though the vampires were a formidable force, they couldn’t keep the skeletons down indefinitely. Short of turning them to ash or dust, there was no way of stopping them for as long as the necromancer’s power bound the bones together in their pseudo-life. We could hack them to bits all day long but, as with the zombies, the bones would keep moving in an attempt to kill us, until they were ordered otherwise.
