by G R Jordan
“Austerley, get off your fat arse and let’s get going. I don’t want you slowing us down.” Oh well, thought Kirkgordon, looks like I’ll need to work on my bonding techniques.
“It’s black, like bloody ebony. Who knows what that damn witch gave me?” moaned Austerley to the world in general.
It really is black, mused Kirkgordon. Not like the skin of someone on the equator. No, this was black, like evil. Undiluted evil, screaming its filth at you.
“Get your sock on and your backside into gear. It’s time to go.”
Austerley swore but began to haul himself to his feet. Kirkgordon called his team around him and they dropped into a loose formation. Calandra and Nefol went ahead at point, then Kirkgordon and Austerley side by side, leaving Havers to watch their rear. There was a sense of pride in his team, Kirkgordon realized, for they were survivors. But now was the time to let their pride go. They were about to see entirely new vistas and they needed to be quick learners if they wanted to return home.
Getting close to the portal, he saw a swirling mass of what could be stars. Calandra turned her head, waiting for the order, and Kirkgordon gave a nod.
“For Alana,” Calandra mouthed at him, and waited for his response.
“Thank you,” he mouthed back, and watched the black-garbed woman nod to Nefol. The woman and the girl stepped confidently together into the portal and vanished.
Kirkgordon turned to Austerley.
“Come on, Hopalong, it’s our turn to dance.”
III
Dagon’s Revenge
Dagon’s Revenge
The Homing Foot
There was a soft crunch underfoot and Kirkgordon looked down to see charcoal soil beneath. Amongst the occasional rocks, long sprouts of wild grass were growing, or rather, existing, for the grass didn’t protrude like massed ranks of spearmen but instead had a lazy limpness to it. There were no trees, just miles of undulating small hills like those he had seen around Belfast. Drumlins, the good folk there called them, but their scenery was green and lush from the abundant rainfall. Here was just bleak.
Calandra’s black leather jacket and dark jeans made her almost fade into the scenery. He watched her survey the land, the ponytail of her long black hair waving from side to side. Her beauty was out of place here but he was glad to have her along for the ride. It wasn’t just her fighting skills, which were a match for anyone he knew, but also the comfort of a woman whom he fought hard to see as a close sister and not a potential lover. No matter the place, she always looked good.
“Does Mr Austerley know where we are?” asked Havers, letting Kirkgordon know that his whole party had crossed through the portal from the Russian countryside to… to… well, to here, wherever here was.
“Give me a minute,” grunted Austerley. “Only just bloody arrived.”
“Nefol, Cally – do a little scout and come back in five minutes. See if there’s anything around here,” ordered Kirkgordon.
“Or anyone,” said Havers.
Nefol, though only a slip of a girl at twelve years of age, nodded with a grimness that a child of her age should not possess. Although she was “functioning well” in Calandra’s words, it was evident that her father’s death was taking its toll. Kirkgordon had watched Father Jonah be burnt to ashes by Farthington’s breath, and he still struggled to shake the image. But she didn’t seem to have vengeance on her mind. Unlike Havers.
“Mr Kirkgordon, how do you intend to find our target if we don’t know where we are?”
Havers hadn’t been impressed when Ma’am gave me control of this mission, thought Kirkgordon. And he’s going to snipe whenever he can. “Since when is Farthington our target, Mr Havers?” Kirkgordon sniggered to himself. Major Havers hated to be called a Mister. “This is a rescue mission for Alana. The moment we get her, we leave. It’s my call all the way, Mr Havers. Remember that.”
“And you remember what that bastard dragon did to the priest.” Havers stepped away, pretending to survey the local area. Austerley tapped Kirkgordon on the shoulder.
“Getting out of here soon-as is a good idea, Churchy. I think I know where we are but I’m not one hundred percent certain. Look how wasted everything is. This place has seen the Elders at some point. This decay isn’t natural.”
“Indy, I just walked through a portal from Russia to here. I kinda left natural behind. Anyway, maybe when daytime comes it’ll be easier.”
“Churchy, this is daytime!”
“What?” Kirkgordon looked around. “But it’s so dark.”
“Can you feel the thickness in the air? Even that is decayed, full of pollution. I think nightfall is going to bring a proper darkness.”
“How’s the foot?” asked Kirkgordon, looking at the booted appendage.
“Sore. And too small. But there’s something else.”
Hell, thought Kirkgordon, this won’t be good. First he loses his foot, blaming me for pinning it with an arrow before Farthington ripped it off his leg. Then he somehow magics a foot off a witch but it’s too small and has gone ebony black as it’s full of evil. Now what?
“The foot has been tingling,” said Austerley, “ever since we arrived. Just tingling.”
“Which means?”
“How should I know, Churchy? It’s my first evil foot, dammit.”
“So, where are we?” asked Kirkgordon, trying to give Austerley a chance to talk about something he did know.
“Well, it’s hard to say in English, there’s no translation. Closest is probably the Nether Lands.”
“Holland? How is this Holland?”
“Hardly. In the scrolls buried deep in the vaults of the St Basil church of the Nazarene, deep set into the Andes, the name given is—”
Kirkgordon heard the noises but they were not like any language he knew. Deciding not to ask for a linguistics lesson from Austerley, Kirkgordon changed tactics.
“So you know about this place. Good, Indy, we’re going to need it. What can you tell me about it?”
“Not much,” said Austerley, and Kirkgordon’s face fell. “But I wouldn’t holiday here.”
But Austerley would go anywhere to look at this occult stuff, thought Kirkgordon. We must be in trouble.
Calandra emerged from behind a small hillock and raced up to Kirkgordon.
“Time to move, Churchy. There’s a whole horde of… of… well, a whole horde of something coming along a road just over there. And I think they will be passing right by us.”
“Get Nefol, Cally. Havers, we’re moving out.”
Three people glided quickly and quietly across the barren terrain to lie behind a small hump by the road. One other followed, hauling a large man in an awkward fashion. The man being dragged emitted grunts and expletives as they travelled.
So much for the road, thought Kirkgordon. A track was probably a better description, as only a slight wearing of the ground indicated the path. But he could hear footsteps coming. Well, he could hear something coming. There was a noise and it included multiple sounds, but not footsteps. Hiding behind the hump, Kirkgordon signalled his team to have their weapons at the ready before taking an arrow from his quiver. The markings on the feathers told him its function, and he smiled at the idea that presented itself. He recognized the sound coming. He could hear hopping.
Kirkgordon held Austerley’s head to the ground so that he couldn’t peer too far over the terrain and alert others to their presence. The rest of the group could be trusted and Kirkgordon flashed a How many? sign to Havers. Thirty to forty came the reply. Better not to get noticed.
Soon Kirkgordon’s eyeline was dominated by humanoid figures that looked like upright frogs. They were the fully developed counterparts of those he had seen on the Scottish island, and most had lost all traces of humanity. The eyes were bloated and the legs were spindly below the knee but wide at the thigh. Webbed feet kicked up dust as they hopped. At least there must be water, thought Kirkgordon. These things couldn’t survive in this dryness.
&
nbsp; Looking at the rest of the team, Kirkgordon was not surprised to sense uneasiness in Calandra and Havers. Both had nearly lost their lives to these creatures before. Nefol was sullen-facedly staring at the parade. Several times Austerley tried to raise his head only to find it gently pushed back down by Kirkgordon, who had witnessed Austerley’s negative reactions too many times. Most fire brigades would kill to have a siren like an Austerley breakdown.
The creatures were almost out of view when they suddenly stopped. One of the frog-men left the front of the party and joined a taller frog-man at the rear. There were various croaks and shakes of their heads, then a harsher croak brought the whole party around. They started to hop as one towards the hump that hid Kirkgordon and Austerley.
“Churchy!” came a hushed whisper.
“Not now, Indy!”
“But my foot, it’s pounding. It’s vibrating. Moving.”
Kirkgordon looked down and saw the boot over Austerley’s black foot rippling like a wave across its surface. His eyes widened as the foot swelled and contracted. Looking back up, he saw the frog-men hopping frantically towards their position.
“Cally! Havers! Grab Austerley and run. That way. And don’t stop until you’re clear of me.”
His partners did not hesitate, each linking an arm under Austerley’s and dragging the former professor away. Austerley was stunned at first but then he began to shout.
“My foot. It’s pounding. It’s pulsing. Look my foot!”
Nefol stood beside Kirkgordon with her staff at the ready, but Kirkgordon rounded on her.
“Get away, Nefol, go. Leave me. I know what I’m doing.”
Looking up, Nefol saw the frog-man horde drawing closer, less than twenty metres away now. The young girl shook her head and focused on the oncoming targets.
“Nefol! Oh heck, hang on then.” Kirkgordon stepped across Nefol, placing himself between the horde and the girl. She watched him draw his bow and saw the markings on the feathers. Dropping to her knees, she placed herself at Kirkgordon’s heels and grabbed his legs with one hand, planting her staff into the ground with the other.
The horde was ten metres away when Kirkgordon loosed the arrow. The lead frog-man had just taken to the air with a large push from his massive thighs and the arrow sailed past him. It looked like Kirkgordon had lost this battle. The creature continued its flight and was in its downward arc, arms raised and about to land on Kirkgordon’s head when the arrow pierced the ground some twenty metres away.
The frog-man felt a pull from behind, as if a lasso had reached out and grabbed his body. For a moment he was held suspended in the air, then he started to edge backwards. Kirkgordon smiled as he watched the horde being dragged into the vortex that the arrow had produced. A mighty wind blew past his shoulders and he felt Nefol clutching him tightly. He crouched in front of her to block her progress towards the vortex. One by one, the frog-men were whipped from their feet into the newly formed abyss, a howling sound accompanying their demise.
Kirkgordon knew that the vortex had no effect on the shooter, but he was also aware that everyone around him would get pulled towards it. Inside his head, a little doubt banged upon the door and asked whether his friends had gotten far enough away. After all, there was so little vegetation or solid matter to grab onto. Watching the last frog-man disappear into the blackness, he heard shouts from Austerley and Havers. The hole was closing back up but the pair raced past him like they were on invisible carts. When the vortex collapsed, Austerley was five metres in front of Kirkgordon, face down in the dirt. Havers was lying on his back, having spread himself in an attempt to slow his progress.
“I told you to cling to the staff.” Turning, Kirkgordon saw Calandra with a scold on her face, her eyes pinned on Austerley. Her black wings were spread open and she gave off a regal air, looking like a Valkyrie. “Nefol, are you okay?”
The young girl nodded and released her grip on Kirkgordon. Havers stood up, glanced around, and brushed the dirt from his outfit.
“Well, I guess that was good thinking, Mr Kirkgordon, but shall we proceed?”
“In a minute, Mr Havers,” Kirkgordon replied. “There are a few things to consider first.” Kirkgordon turned to Nefol, who smiled back at him.
“Next time, Nefol, if I say run, then you run.”
Nefol’s face turned sullen. “Next time, then, kindly tell your team what you are doing.” Before Kirkgordon could answer, Nefol moped off towards Calandra, who was giving Kirkgordon a mother’s look of Was that really necessary?
“And as for you, Indy,” said Kirkgordon, “what’s the deal with your foot? It was like it was drawing the frog-men to it.”
Austerley nodded and, although still winded, started to speak.
“Yes… I think so… We are in the Nether lands.”
“Holland?” asked Calandra.
“No! The back lands. It doesn’t translate well. Creatures, things here… it’s like they’re drawn to evil, or so I’ve read. I don’t know how, but they know. And that damn witch was full of evil.”
“Don’t start that, Indy. You took the foot,” scolded Kirkgordon.
As Austerley snarled at Kirkgordon, Havers suggested a solution.
“Well, this would appear to be an unnecessary risk. I suggest removal of the appendage.”
“How?” asked Kirkgordon.
“What do you mean, how? No one’s taking my foot off!”
“Shush, Indy. How, Havers?”
“I have a blade, Mr Kirkgordon, and you know I can handle a blade.”
“Churchy, you keep that lunatic off me. Havers, you’ve been psycho since the priest got burnt. No one’s taking my foot off me.”
“Indy, not in front of her,” raged Calandra as Nefol stormed off.
“Bloody magic, Indy,” spat Kirkgordon. “Five minutes in and you guys are at each other.”
“Well, shall I?” asked Havers.
“No!” shouted Austerley.
“No. Not yet, Mr Havers. We are in the clear at the moment,” answered Kirkgordon.
“But for how long?”
“Long enough. But I’ll bear your suggestion in mind.”
“No you bloody won’t,” interjected Austerley.
“Enough!” Kirkgordon looked for Calandra and found her a little distance away. “Give Austerley a hand, will you?” he called to her. “And then we’d better get moving.”
“Okay, Indy, but where?”
“Austerley, you know where we are, but do you know it exactly?” asked Kirkgordon.
“No, nothing except that this is the Nether… back lands.”
“Well, the frog-men came from down that way, so there must be something there,” said Kirkgordon. “Let’s find out what it is.”
The Fog
“Austerley’s slowing us down, Cally.”
“Well, you can hardly leave him behind, can you?” replied Calandra, removing her leather jacket and tying it round her waist. She caught Kirkgordon’s eyes flashing across her torso and his appreciative inhalation of breath. The black crop top had been chosen for its freedom, keeping her limbs clear of any snagging clothing in a fight. But yes, she admitted to herself, also because it always makes him look.
“No, I can’t. But dammit, this pace is so slow. How far do you think we’ve covered?”
“Five miles, tops.”
“Exactly. I even put Havers with him to see if that would get Austerley’s arse into gear, but he seems to be dragging the foot.”
“You weren’t seriously considering Havers’ proposal, were you? It’s pretty barbaric, hacking someone’s foot off.”
“If there are hordes after us because of it then yes, I will consider it.” Kirkgordon looked away from Calandra’s frown. “I know he means a lot to you, but that foot could get us all killed. Havers does have a point.”
“Yes, and Havers has an agenda too, Churchy. And his agenda is not the same as yours, be sure of that. I’ve known him a long time and I’ve never seen him this moo
dy. There’s only one thing he wants and that’s Farthington’s head on a plate. He’ll sacrifice Alana for that, trust me. And he’ll push Nefol that way too.”
Kirkgordon watched the young girl up ahead. There was a resolve about her but it was born from determination, not hate. Kirkgordon was used to protecting one person, one VIP. Now he had a team to balance and understand.
“It’s starting to get properly dark,” said Calandra. “We should find somewhere to lie low. Somewhere with shelter and some walls. I don’t fancy taking on anything in the dark round here.”
Kirkgordon called Nefol back and told her to go and scout ahead for some shelter. The good news of a building within sight was soon returned and the party made a beeline for it. The path had been monotonous, the landscape a constant plain of dark soil and pathetic outcrops of failing plant growth, but now there was a haven to lift everyone’s spirits and the pace quickened towards it.
Kirkgordon halted the party a little short of the building. He realized this left them in the open, but as anyone inside would have seen them coming from a good distance away, he felt it didn’t compromise the party any further. The building was wooden in construction and appeared to be a barn with some high windows and a large double door on one side. Rotting timbers could be seen and there were open holes where the perishing was at its greatest.
Nefol and Calandra were sent to check first around and then inside the building. A few minutes later Calandra’s head popped out one of the high windows and called the men forward.
Stepping inside, Kirkgordon surveyed what appeared to be an empty barn. There was a central ladder leading to a high loft but otherwise the bottom floor was entirely empty. The same soil they had trudged over also covered the lower area. Calandra shouted down from above and Kirkgordon climbed the ladder to the upper part. There were large plant leaves piled up at one end. Quite rounded for a leaf, each dark-green piece was at least the height of a man. Wondering where in this land the leaves could have come from, Kirkgordon touched one and felt its coarse skin.
