by G R Jordan
The creature swiped a webbed hand at Havers’ head, but the major didn’t let go of his position and he could hear the creature start to gurgle. With a deft flick he used his opponent’s weight to turn the creature, and now Havers was on top. With no more air filling the creature’s lungs, it died with Havers on top of it. He glanced around as it expired, checking for any others.
There was no one else about but it wouldn’t be long before others arrived. Havers had to close his right eye as blood was pouring into it. He felt along his head until he found the wound. Ripping part of his trouser, he fashioned a makeshift bandage and cleared his eye out. Then he reached into the top of his trousers and ripped four thin blades from the fabric. They had flat pieces of metal emerging from either side of the blade at one end. He used these to wrap the blades to his fingertips, two on each hand.
With no idea where he was, Havers knew his first priority was escape. Calandra might be in a nearby cell and he should probably check if he got the chance, but he knew what he really wanted to do. Hunt Farthington. That was what his mother would have done. Complete the mission, and Farthington had always been his mission.
A noise came from down the corridor and Havers ran for the shadows further along the passageway in the opposite direction. Hiding in the dark, Havers felt the cold come over his torso. He had lost blood and was reeling from his latest fight, but he knew he had to control his breathing and his body. The self-discipline that both parents had drilled into him came to his rescue and he found some calm in the situation. It was unnatural and forced but it served its purpose, as the next frog-man passed by the shadow Havers was in and then passed into shadow itself.
Fearing he might compromise himself further by running, Havers crept down the corridor locating several cell doors. Carefully he opened each door but found all cells to be empty. Apparently Calandra was not nearby. Not to worry, he needed no help to escape this place.
As he wandered the corridors, he heard several frog-men but managed to evade their eyes. No doubt they would soon be looking for him. As he waited at a junction of two corridors, Havers could smell something. It was musky, like an animal, but he couldn’t see anything. Then it leapt at him from the shadows on his left-hand side. There was only one possible action, and Havers slashed at the animal with his hand, whipping his blades across its body.
The creature fell and howled out to the night. Damn, thought Havers, that’ll bring them running. This time he ran with all he had until he saw a door on his left-hand side. This whole place was a rabbit warren, all doors and corridors. He turned the door handle and stepped inside.
The room was dark, lit only by two inadequate candles. Hanging on the left-hand-side wall were several cloaks, faded in their colour and ripped in places. But they seemed to hold a grandeur, albeit from a long time ago. There was a bookcase in the wall directly ahead, old volumes stacked in a sloppy fashion and stained brown. Many were tied up with cord and most had some loose cord dangling pathetically.
The right-hand side was the darkest area and Havers couldn’t see into it. Listening intently, he heard someone breathe. No, that was no human’s breath. Without turning his head to the sound, he gently closed the door behind him. He strode confidently to the bookcase and picked up a manuscript. His face was pointed at the cover but his eyes weren’t looking, all attention focused on the shadows cast by the candles, waiting for further sounds.
Havers could sense the frog-man creeping up on him. If he was honest, they were rubbish at creeping around with their large flipper feet. The shadows told him the frog-man had raised his arms to come down on him hard and on hearing a sharp intake of breath, Havers swayed under the attack, coming around behind the frog-man. The small blades took out the creature’s throat before it stood a chance.
The difficulty of his situation became apparent to him as he looked at the manuscripts. He was in the middle of a maze-like building with no map and unable to read anything around him to find a clue to the correct direction. Taking a cloak off its fixing, he draped it over his shoulders. The covering for his body was good but there was no cover for his head. Kirkgordon had once told Havers about how he wore a frog-man’s head to rescue Calandra. Well, needs must, thought Havers.
Havers emerged from the room wearing the amphibious head and almost collided with a small detachment of frog-men passing by. They parted on seeing him and allowed him passage along the corridor. This is more like it, thought Havers. He was still lost, but at least he would have an easier time moving about.
Havers hopped to the next junction of the corridors, careful to let the robes flap out to cover his feet. He felt nauseous and wasn’t sure if it was his blood loss or the foul stench inside the head. But there was no time for such contemplation – he needed to get away from this building and back to the town to find Farthington. The attempted rescue of Alana had been too much of a distraction and he would inform Ma’am of her error on his return.
After turning into another corridor, Havers found a number of frog-men travelling along the corridor dressed in similar attire to his own. The leader of this group uttered some croaks and gurgles at Havers. Having no idea what was said, Havers pointed up the corridor and rolled his shoulders. The leader replied and pointed to the back of the group. Havers obediently hopped into position at the rear and followed the group.
Austerley has a Moment
Kirkgordon spat onto the stone floor. “Bloody rabbit warren. How many tunnels and corridors can a place have? It’s getting so that I can’t even tell if we’ve gone forward, back, up or down. Bollocks!”
“Can I have a rest then? Seeing as we’re as lost as we were two hours ago.” Austerley collapsed against the corridor wall, good leg and wooden stump sprawled before him.
“Nefol, you have any ideas?”
The teenager shot a glance over her shoulder that said idiot but a simple “no” was the verbal response. Kirkgordon wondered how she was really holding up. It was bad enough that her father had died back in the real world, but now Calandra was missing. I could really do with her now, thought Kirkgordon. Cally was always supportive, always positive with him. She backed him even when it went against her own hopes and dreams. Part of him wished he’d met her sooner, before Alana, but then he felt guilty. Alana was so special. And then he wished he was a Mormon, in Salt Lake City, able to have two wives. No, that would probably go wrong.
Austerley began to snore. Nefol moved to wake him up but Kirkgordon still didn’t know where to go so he waved Nefol off her task.
“Do you think she’s alive?”
The question caught him cold. Nefol had that sour, disappointed look on her face, tough and annoyed, but beneath it he could see the cracks forming. The poor girl was scared. Well, join the club.
“Don’t think, just trust she is.”
Nefol tutted at the comment. Used to just ignoring the insults, Kirkgordon was amazed at how hurt he felt by this rejection of advice.
“Hey, don’t tut at me, I mean it. You have to trust otherwise what’s the point? At the moment we have nothing, not even a direction to run in. So you trust something will come up. Keeps your spirits up, keeps you focused.”
“You shouldn’t have sent them off alone.”
“No. Stop that. I sent her off with the nastiest, excuse my language, bastard I know. None of us would have made a more deadly ally. Just trust, Nefol. There ain’t anything else.” Lowering his head, Kirkgordon indicated the conversation was finished. He could see the scowl without looking.
Everything up to now had been easy. There had been a trail. From heading to Russia, then England and then the island. Even in Dillingham there had been something to follow. When Farthington took Alana, Kirkgordon had still had a track through the Russian portal. But now he was lost without a course, steering blindly, a ship adrift on the high sea, hoping for land.
Austerley twitched. Kirkgordon saw it from the corner of his eye and he didn’t grasp it fully, but there was a twitch in Austerley’s leg. Th
e guy can’t even rest at peace. Again, he flinched again.
“No mother…”
Mother? Is he dreaming about his childhood?
“Gatekeeper, no! Not my fault, no… Dagon, no…”
Austerley’s voice was starting to increase in volume but his eyes hadn’t opened. Ignoring Nefol’s questioning glance, Kirkgordon hovered over Austerley.
“Sent out, sent out to find… was never my fault… blame Farthington, it was the dragon…”
“Indy, snap out of it, you’re getting loud. Wake up, Indy,” ordered Kirkgordon, shaking his colleague.
“Sacrifice… he wants sacrifice… Calandra, no not her… other woman…”
Thwack! The slap was delivered with aplomb and Austerley’s eyes opened in a flash. They were staring ahead, transfixed.
“Indy! Indy, are you okay?” asked Kirkgordon.
“I saw them.”
“Who?”
“The women.”
“Dirty dreams, is that all you men can manage?”
“Shut up Nefol! Indy, what women?”
“Calandra. So cold, glorious with her wings unfurled. And another woman.”
“What other woman?”
“Don’t know her. Never seen her before.”
“Describe her.”
“Ordinary woman. Not different in any way.”
Kirkgordon realized Austerley’s view of women was a little different to most men. Unless they had some weird ability or a set of wings he wasn’t interested. “What was her shape? Hair colour? Face?”
“Oh. Curved, medium height. Black hair, long to her shoulders, slightly wavy. Sizeable chest…”
“Alana?”
“Unreal,” interrupted Nefol. “Is that how you guys identify all women?”
“Green eyes, slight dip on her mouth, right-hand side. Faint scar line across her forehead?” Kirkgordon gave a challenging look at Nefol.
“Yes,” said Austerley.
“Hasn’t he seen the photograph?” asked Nefol.
“No. With his connections I thought it better he didn’t know her.”
“I saw them, Churchy, they’re in trouble. Sacrifice. They are going to be sacrificed to Dagon.”
“Why? I thought he was coming through to here.”
“I don’t know, maybe they can’t open a door.” Austerley sat facing a blank wall but his eyes were lighting up. “He must be close though, otherwise I wouldn’t be sensing him.”
“On your feet then, Indy. We need to follow your instincts.” And that’s how I know we’re in trouble, thought Kirkgordon.
Standing up and balancing on his good leg, Austerley closed his eyes. Nefol looked at Kirkgordon who just stood and rolled his shoulders. After a minute’s apparent contemplation, Austerley turned and set off down the corridor.
“Whoa! Don’t get carried away there, speedy. Nefol, go up ahead, check the corridor’s clear.” Kirkgordon watched Nefol brush nimbly past and run up the corridor making almost no sound on the floor. I’m like an elephant compared to her, he thought. And then Austerley could be heard clumping up the passage, his wooden leg striking the stone. We’re like the Keystone cops!
The group made slow progress due to Austerley’s condition but he was constantly affirming the direction. As they approached a junction in the corridor, Nefol doubled back.
“I thought I heard something up ahead but I can’t see anything.”
“Okay,” said Kirkgordon, “stay with Austerley, I’ll take a look.” He ignored Nefol’s What are you going to do? glance. With his back tight to the wall he approached the junction, scanning everywhere. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing. No, wait. There was something. It was very hard to see, just a disturbance in the eye line. Something that was barely visible, something that had disfigured the air. Cautiously he waved the others to him.
“Can you see it?”
“No,” said Nefol.
“Yes,” said Austerley, “and I can feel it. It’s a” – the sound was like a coughing spasm – “which translates to invisible sleeper, as it puts its victims to sleep.”
“So you know where it is. Show me!” demanded Nefol.
“Right there,” said Austerley, “directly across beside the wall edge…”
“Nefol, no!”
It was too late. Nefol ran, staff swirling at the invisible creature. Striking hard with the white hot tip of her staff, she split the stone floor of the passage asunder before suddenly collapsing to the ground. Watching horrified, Kirkgordon looked for any disturbance to show where the creature was now. Then Nefol’s limp body began to move along the floor.
“It’s taking her back to its lair. We’ll never find her if it gets away,” said Austerley.
Kirkgordon loaded three arrows and aimed right above Nefol’s body. He ignored the disturbing sight of her frame dragging itself along the ground. Austerley’s hand gripping tight on his shoulder was also ignored. Breathing out gently, he let his three arrows fly.
Two arrows fell to the ground, but there was a squeal in the air and the third arrow started thrashing about. Kirkgordon ran forward, causing Austerley to lose his grip and topple forward. Kirkgordon took another arrow and repeatedly drove it into the air surrounding the third arrow. He didn’t stop his attack until the arrow stopped moving.
“She’s not moving. I’m not sure if she’s breathing.”
“Never mind that, get me up.”
Kirkgordon turned and saw Austerley lying on the ground minus his wooden leg, which had become detached and rolled away from him. It was inappropriate but the image was so funny that Kirkgordon burst out laughing, tension draining from him after his frenzied attack.
“This is hardly a time for merriment. That poor girl is in trouble, it’s doubtful that she’ll wake anytime soon. And with the noise we’re making, no doubt some of the frog-men will already be en route to our present location.” Austerley reached out for his wooden leg but only succeeded in rolling over onto his front. “Damn this blasted leg!”
Trying to focus his thoughts, Kirkgordon looked away from Austerley and stared at Nefol’s face. Her nostrils were flinching slightly and on putting his finger in front of them he found that she was in fact breathing. With that assured, he turned to Austerley, bit his lip and collected the false leg. Quickly he bound the straps onto Austerley and helped him to his feet.
“Maybe I should take the bow if you have to carry Nefol?” said Austerley.
Kirkgordon frowned. “There’s no way you are getting your hands on these,” he said, tapping his quiver. “You’re bad enough with just your hands, who knows what nonsense you could do if armed.” Kirkgordon picked Nefol up and threw her over his shoulder. He’d better get her out of this. Calandra would kill him if she knew Nefol had been injured again.
“This way,” whispered Austerley as he tore down a new corridor. Following close behind, it dawned on Kirkgordon that Austerley was on point and probably ill-equipped to deal with a fight. Still, we made our noise behind us, he thought, so I’ve probably got the more dangerous position. Great!
Kirkgordon tried hard to keep his head up, but the burden of carrying Nefol over his shoulder meant that often his head was looking down. Because of this he saw the change in the floor first.
“Indy, what’s this stuff we’re walking on now?”
“Unknown. But it’s not from here.”
Okay, thought Kirkgordon. He was getting used to this kind of thing. “So where is it from?”
“I don’t know.”
If Austerley doesn’t know, hell, it must be bad, thought Kirkgordon. The ground beneath had turned black with the occasional piece of grey. Granular in nature, it felt like walking on a synthetic pitch with the false grass stems removed and only the rubber particulates remaining. The strange thing was that the walls seemed to be made of it too. Crumbling, decaying.
“How come you don’t know?”
“What am I? Some sort of encyclopaedia?”
“Frankly, Indy, yes!
And a deeply occult one at that. Also, how did it get here?”
“I’m guessing the Elder beings.” Austerley muttered this as if it were obvious.
“Because…”
“The grey substance has been found at many sites were they were believed to have existed in our planet’s history. It’s an amazing plasm that seems to take different forms wherever it ends up. But I have seen this form before.”
“Where?”
“Martin’s beach. It was left behind when a creature came out of the sea and took many to their deaths. All by a sort of submission.”
“Comforting. Did you see the creature?”
“No, I’m not that old, Churchy. It was almost a hundred years before my time.”
“So someone had kept the material?”
“No! You’re bloody irritating with your questions at times. It was there when I got there.”
“A hundred years later?”
“Yes. It’s not old when we talk about the Elders. Similar particulates are thought to be over a thousand years old.”
“Never tell me your travel company.”
Austerley grunted and then stopped suddenly. Processing all that Austerley had said, Kirkgordon didn’t notice his colleague stopping and crashed into his back.
“What is it?” hissed Kirkgordon, nearly dropping Nefol.
“There’s a door here.”
“Where?” Kirkgordon could see nothing. The walls were just like the floor. Black with specks of grey. No lines, no delineation of any kind.
“There,” said Austerley and pushed with his hand, causing the wall to move away and reveal a deeper darkness. Before Kirkgordon could stop him, Austerley stepped through the gap leaving Kirkgordon no option but to follow. Inside, his eyes were suddenly blind.
