by H. A. Harvey
“It h-has to be just him.” Ourei said hesitantly at last, “That’s what They insisted, yes?”
Nian blinked, unsure whether they had just had a conversation he missed or he had been musing aloud. Slowly, he nodded. “Nobody can come with me, and it doesn’t make any sense for you to wait here. I don’t know how long it will take, and you’d all be killed.”
“No!” Karen screeched as she tore away from Ourei’s grasp and stormed up to Nian. He couldn’t help but note that he was finally taller than his sister, though it’d been almost six months since they last stood straight in front of each other. “I’m not trading places with you! I’m coming with you, Ni. I can fight-“
Karen was cut short as David stepped in front of her. He embraced her and whispered into her ear for several moments. Whatever he told her affected Karen instantly and profoundly. A look more borne of anguish or sorrow than fear was etched in her face as she drew back and gave a reluctant nod.
“Alright, we’ll go.” She whispered, “But you better be right behind us.”
. . .
Nian delicately pushed open the hatch behind the coat of arms and found himself standing on the walkway around the upper level of the rear wing’s front hall. The place wasn’t what he expected. It looked more like an abandoned storehouse than the lair of some unspeakable, ancient evil. Nian made his way down to the ground floor and looked about. The old stonework in the wing made no use of wooden supports and though the stones were worn, they still seemed sturdy enough to see another few centuries before they were likely to break down very easily. Nian wondered how he was going to destroy this place. His plan to use fire obviously wouldn’t work.
A low, droning sound issuing from the central corridor drew Nian’s attention. He decided to worry about the stonework later and, drawing his sword, made his way down the hallway. Peering into the first door, he found Tyvus’ foul study. The sight of the piles of flesh-bound tomes and bloody restraints made Nian want to recoil more than even the reek in the room.
Nian set his jaw and decided that, even if he couldn’t burn the whole wing, this room had to be bathed in fire. He hauled on one of the wooden counters along the perimeter of the room, dragging the table and its contents to the stone platform before upending the table to deposit the books and scrolls onto the blood-stained stone. He continued until the stone table was buried in a heap of the room’s gathered evils. Then he doused the collection with a flask of oil from his satchel and, taking one of Malor’s fire runes from his belt, traced the circle around the edge of the stone with his thumb before tossing it onto the pile. He leapt backward in surprise as a ball of fire enveloped the center of the room and nearly himself as well. The pulsing from out in the hall was replaced by a roar of fury that shook the stones around him.
Nian recovered his blade and rushed out into the corridor, but found no beast that could have made the noise. The droning sound resumed, and Nian felt sure that he heard the anguished cry of several women or girls carried along with it. Nian fidgeted his grip upon the relic blade and took a deep breath. He still had more fire-runed stones, but whatever was behind the other doors would have to wait for the trip out. Nian stalked down the corridor determinedly. He thought about running, but decided against it since he wasn’t sure which direction he’d go if he ran, especially as he became aware of something waiting down the corridor, something old, powerful, and full of hate, and growing in strength with each breath.
As Nian made his way further down the corridor, the worked stone gave way to an old, rough-cut mining tunnel. He became aware of a sinister, pulsing red glow ahead where the tunnel seemed to broaden. When he was still a dozen steps from the opening when the murmur halted suddenly and Nian froze. He heard a few brief sobs ahead of him. Then, the women uttered a synchronized screech of agony and the mine shaft was filled with an unearthly howling as the light was sucked into the cavern ahead, bathing him in darkness. The relic sword dutifully sprang to life with its watery light as Nian charged forward.
Nian emerged from the tunnel into a cavern that must have once served as a main hub to half a dozen other shafts that lead away in all directions. The light from his blade skipped off portions of stone worn smooth by the blows of pickaxes and danced across the surface of icy stalactites to cast a dim, eerie blue glow through the cavern. The rough-hewn stone of the walls carried runes like those Nian had seen in the study, only these were larger, and each surrounded the flayed corpse of an animal. The gristly markings repeated a cycle of three around the entirety of the cavern; first a bird that looked like an eagle or condor, then a wolf, and then a pike.
At the center of the room, the scarred form of Tyvus stood facing him, wearing naught but script from the ceiling of his study, scribbled in drying blood. Before the Falon, three young women hovered several feet off the ground, their positions marking off the points of a triangle around a jet black stone at their center. Nian watched in horror as the cavern floor around the stone crumbled and broke like ash, the flakes tumbling inward to be swallowed by the inky black stone and leaving a gaping hole into nothingness beneath.
“You are too late . . . Emissary.”
Tyvus laughed and, as he spoke, it seemed to Nian that a thousand voices from the air and more from the void beneath the stone echoed his words, though they each seemed to choose a different insulting title when Tyvus called him Emissary. Tyvus’ flesh began to turn an ashen hue as he alternated between maddened laughter and yelps of pain.
Tendrils of utter black coiled out of the howling void and, reaching out with directed purpose, passed into the chest of each of the women, and though they seemed to cause no damage, evoked screams of such agony that Nian found himself drawn to leap down to the cavern floor and rush to their aid. The Falon launched himself over the ritual triangle, aided by a downbeat of his wings, and landed between Nian and the hellish ceremony. As Tyvus leered down at him, Nian watched an inky, black tar seep from the corners of the creature’s eyes and rapidly spread across his body. The dark sorcerer’s flesh drank the tar greedily as it slithered and flowed across his skin, marking its passage with a swelling of bone and sinew, accompanied by a singular reek of rot and pestilence as portions of skin stretched and tore to reveal black fibers in place of normal muscle that oozed with ghastly, rancid fluids.
“The vessels are preparing themselves.” Tyvus’ voice no longer dominated the others as it spoke. It might be still within the mix of the hateful host, but it was clear to Nian that there was no longer a Tyvus, only this vessel for the legion of evil. Nian stumbled back in repulsed horror as Tyvus’ stomach tore itself open, the entrails within roiling out and separating into two long, thin tentacles of black, tar-coated intestine. The corrupted tar seemed to lend them strength and rigid form and the process no longer seemed to inflict pain upon the host. Perhaps he was beyond pain now. “In moments, our kin will again walk this realm, stolen from us by the Titans when mortals were but clever beasts hiding in mountain caves. Your time is ended, mortal. This place will be torn down to remake a realm more suited to the Demon Principalities, and there is nothing that can stop it now.”
Nian fell back several paces as Legion’s tentacles lashed out and nearly ensnared his limbs before he flailed and left a severed tip of tar-covered intestine upon the ground he was forced to surrender. He was too late, protected from corruption or not, there wasn’t any hope of beating this thing, especially if, in a few moments, he would have three more to contend with. And worse, he had no way to seal the rift and stop that from happening. Nian’s thoughts were disrupted as the sword vibrated painfully in his hand.
“Lies!”
The image of Nian hopping down from the mouth of his tunnel, only to be intercepted by the former vizier replayed in his head. Of course! If there was no way to stop them, there would be no need to prevent Nian from reaching the girls, he’d only be sucked up with everything else. If they were blocking him, it was because they
were afraid he could stop it. In fact, the thing’s speeches and, once he thought about it, half-hearted attacks were just stalls, buying time until there really would be nothing he could do.
Nian dropped back one more step as he brought his shield up against the wet smack of another tentacle strike. He grinned to himself and used the moment hidden from view to slip a fire-stone into his shield hand. Nian traced the rune with his thumb as he gave another step of ground and crouched. Then, he exploded forward and up. Leaping into the air, Nian battered the tentacles aside with his shield, releasing the stone towards Legion’s face. The rune popped into a ball of fire that seared the creature’s face and chest, sending it stumbling backward as it howled in rage. Nian brought his blade down as he landed, his stroke severing several feet of both the demon’s tentacles.
It was difficult to tell if Legion felt pain, but anger, that was certain. The twisted Falon erupted back at Nian with a furious charge and cascade of strikes definitely meant to kill, not delay. Nian ducked a wing-strike, only to be smacked against the face by one of the tentacle stubs. The blow struck as hard as a fist, but the stinging, foul-smelling ichor left behind on his cheek almost instantly blurred his vision and made him want to retch. A follow-up blow from Legion’s other wing came too quickly for Nian to evade, and he brought his shield up in time to at least cushion the blow a bit. The power of the blow still knocked Nian from his feet to land on his rump several feet back. His poor, battered shield, having absorbed arrows, spear thrusts, and sword blows finally had enough and cracked across its center.
“Brace!”
An image of Nian pointing the sword at Legion with both hands flashed in his mind, and Nian followed suit. The blade vibrated madly as the demon closed on them, and suddenly, a cone of flame filled Nian’s view, the unexpected flare of light nearly blinding him as the small chamber was filled with a rush incredible heat. Dragon-fire! The blade must have learned to repeat the song from their fight before. Nian wondered why the blade hadn’t used the song of fire earlier, though it wasn’t long before he had an answer.
The blade felt heavier in his hands than normal, though still a bit lighter than it should. As the flames died down, the sword’s light didn’t return. The only light in the cavern was the red-orange glow of stones superheated by the fiery blast. Nian’s heart fell when he saw Legion unfold Tyvus’ wings, the feather-shaped scales also glowing with the heat of the dragon-fire. Behind him, the void tendrils continued to defile the screaming women. Legion stretched and admired the glowing wings triumphantly.
“Well,” They said as Legion strode forward again, “It seems the remnants of the usurpers’ gifts compliment each other well.”
Nian barely scuttled to his feet in time to lurch out of the way of a searing-hot wing. He jabbed back with all of his strength before Legion had a chance to withdraw the wing. The blade’s strength was definitely diminished, but still retained enough potency to hold an edge keen enough to pierce the scales of the wing, though with more trouble than even the dragon’s chest. Legion recoiled and yanked the injured wing back, tearing Nian’s relic blade from his grasp as it went.
A second wing swept forward as Nian stepped after his blade, smashing into Nian and flinging him back against the stone wall in a daze. The drake hide coat dissipated most of the heat from the blow, but the upper edge of the wing scraped his jaw and nearly seared the flesh from the bone. The pain blinded Nian for a moment, and by the time his vision cleared, Legion had closed to stand in front of him and their tentacles coiled around his throat, lifting him from the ground. Nian grasped desperately at the rancid cords to fight being throttled. Legion drew the blade from their injured wing and examined it. Nian could tell the blade recoiled at their touch, but hadn’t the strength to wrench free of their grasp.
“What a clever little trinket. We’ll enjoy showing it what real power is like. It took all the might of the usurpers combined to hope to face us before.” Legion laughed, their thousands of voices echoed off the cavern walls. “It shows how far they’ve fallen, that all they can muster is one mortal farm boy to send against our return.”
“I’m more than enough.” Nian latched onto the slight and used it to steel his will. “And I’m not a farmer. I was an innkeeper, now I’m a messenger.”
Legion seemed bemused and drew Nian up close to Tyvus’ festering face. “What is your message for us, innkeeper?”
“It’s from Kadia.”
As he finished his statement, Nian released his hold on the coils about his throat. He grasped the base of Tyvus’ wings with his right hand and rammed his left into the gaping wound in the Falon’s abdomen as a pearl-white glow flashed in his palm. Legion tried to recoil, but Nian held him fast as the thousand voices turned from laughter to screams of agony and the pearlescent light of Genesis magic spread to envelop them both. The wash of magic filled Nian with a rush of strength and eased the pain of his jaw, but he could tell it had the opposite effect on Legion, and the sheath of magic turned Tyvus’ body into a prison. Nian braced his feet against the wall behind him and shoved forward violently.
“My message isn’t for you though.” Nian snarled at Legion as he forced the Falon backward, snatching his blade back from the howling demon’s grasp. “It’s for your friends, wherever they are. They should stay in whatever hole they’ve been hiding in, because we know how to fight them. If one tavern boy can do this to you, imagine what will happen if They decide you’re worth real attention.”
Nian gave a final shove and hurled Legion over the void. The glowing demon struck the black stone at the heart of the ritual before tumbling into the void amidst the writhing tentacles of shadow, releasing their captives and shrinking into the hole to avoid contact with the imprisoned demon. The stone fractured and pulsed with white light shining out of the fissures. Each pulse sent tremors through the ground, walls, and entire cavern. Ice and stone cracked loose from the cavern’s ceiling and cascaded down around Nian. Then the stone shattered with a thunderous blast that swept him off his feet.
“Vessels!” The sword warned as he staggered to his feet.
Nian reacted to a flash of him crouching just in time, and one of the women tumbled over him and into the void as it collapsed in on itself. He regained his feet as a second woman hurtled towards him, screeching and snarling as she seemed to be sprouting scales along her skin, her fingers already twisted into vicious, bony claws. Nian and the sword reacted as one and slashed cleanly through her torso. He spun, remembering the third point in the triangle.
“Nian!”
At the sound of his name, carried on a familiar tongue, Nian froze short of striking the huddled form on the trembling cavern floor. The fading light from the cooling rocks made it impossible to make out more detail than the vague outline of a small female with blonde hair. The relic blade strained against his grip, urging him to finish the killing stroke, but Nian held it back.
“Nian please, it’s me.” Kelly’s small voice could barely be heard over the trembling mountain. “I just want to go home Nian. Please don’t kill me.”
“Lies!” The blade urged Nian insistently, flashing an image of striking the form repeatedly. “Lies, Lies, Lies!”
Nian sighed and sheathed the sword. He’d feel better if he could at least hold it at the ready, but even weakened, he couldn’t hold the sword back and handle the girl. A wild, mutating woman running at him was one thing, but he wasn’t going to kill a frightened girl huddled on the floor. Nian reached down and helped Kelly to her feet.
The girl draped her arm over Nian’s shoulder and started to mutter her gratitude, but was drowned out as Nian saw a portion of the glowing stones along the floor nearby tumble into blackness. Nian worried for a moment that the void was reopening, until he heard the stones echoing off the walls of a deep chasm beneath them. Nian scooped Kelly’s knees up in his free arm and dashed for the dim light coming from the keep’s hallway.
As he neared the ledge up to the tunnel, Nian felt the stone beneath his feet tremble and tilt back towards the chasm. He bolted forward for all he was worth. Nian took advantage of the lifted end to vault forward. Even as he left the floor, Nian could see that he wouldn’t make the ledge. He heaved Kelly forward onto the walkway, barely managing to find a handhold to keep from sliding backward. While he searched with his feet for a foothold, Kelly’s small hand grasped his wrist. Nian smiled gratefully, but his smile faded as he looked up. The light from the tunnel shone on Kelly’s face, showing an elongated, canine snout covered with short, blonde fur. The feral face blinked at him and Nian thought it looked like she was weeping.
“I’m so sorry Nian.”
Nian scrambled for his blade with his free hand as the wolf-thing lifted his wrist off of the stone ledge, suspending him over the cliff with little effort. Before Nian could get his blade clear of the sheath, the wolf snarled and released his wrist. Kelly’s shadow vanished into the collapsing tunnel of the keep as Nian plummeted into the maw of shadow.
. . .
Sergeant Jonas had been reluctant to lead a pack of more than fifty slaves and strangers into the mines, but Karen and the surviving guard were able to convince him after a brief recount of the captain’s fate. The group had more trouble moving through the back of the garrison buildings than Malor thought the old soldier expected. Still, they only ran afoul of two patrols, and none of those escaped. It seemed strange, watching Baedites fall on their own, but the wizard supposed it was practical. The handful of soldiers had made their choice to stand with their captain instead of their homeland, and wouldn’t be able to remain here anyway. The sergeant stopped at the entrance to a mine shaft and let two of the other soldiers start leading the liberated slaves in while he dropped back to approach Karen and the others.
