Into the Madness

by Richard H. Stephens

  She followed his gaze down the road to the Frothe. The river entered the city beneath a broken section of timber, churning its way past the rubble of a stone bridge scattered across its banks—large chunks creating rapids where there hadn’t been any before.

  Karvus pointed at the broken span. “They went that way.”

  Silurian nodded. “Makes sense. That’s Storms End Route. The only accessible road through the mountains north of here.”

  Melody unlashed a saddlebag and pulled out a package wrapped in cloth. She unrolled a piece of salted meat they had prepared in the servant’s galley beneath the fallen north tower of Castle Svelte, and cut off a slice before handing it to Silurian.

  He accepted it without a word, took his share and tossed the remainder to Karvus. The look on Silurian’s face as he bit into it wasn’t favourable.

  “Should we check the town to see if anyone survived?” Melody asked.

  “Not much point if Helleden’s been through here. Anyone unlucky enough to have been here will be dead now,” Silurian said around a mouthful of tough meat. “The sooner we catch up to the bastard, the better.”

  Melody gave him a look but he ignored her. He was becoming more bitter by the day. She couldn’t blame him, but it wasn’t who he was.

  A sadness filled her. The world was in jeopardy of losing a bright light. Although she hadn’t known him during his dark years, he’d held nothing back explaining how far he’d fallen and subsequently risen from. She’d have to keep a closer eye on him. Zephyr could ill afford to lose him again.

  She accompanied him to the footing of the broken bridge. The Frothe lived up to its name, churning in great curls around the blasted debris of the bridge.

  “We can’t cross the horses here.” Silurian gathered the reins of their horse and started into the town. “We’ll have to look inside the walls for a bridge. Let’s hope one survived.”

  The torn-up cobblestone street beyond the gatehouse lay beneath piles of rubble. Silurian and Karvus steered their horses around the worst of the obstacles.

  Melody went first, picking their path. The noise of the racing river became louder as they approached the spot where the roadway angled upward to a stone bridge. She couldn’t believe the sight of the large building collapsed across arched roadway, blocking their passage.

  The men tethered the horses and inspected the span.

  She shook her head, stepping back from a splintered wall that angled out of the wreckage. “There’s no way we’ll get the horses past this.”

  Karvus, waist deep in debris, began chucking loose timber aside. He grunted under the strain of a larger section of wall—the broken panel barely moved.

  “It looks like you’re right,” Silurian agreed. “We’ll have to backtrack and head deeper into town. There’s another route that leads to a well in the town’s square.”

  A board creaked down the street behind them.

  Silurian spun, sword in hand. “Karvus!”

  Melody crouched low behind a pile of rubble, the runes on her staff coming to life.

  A spear materialized from the remains of a three-story building close to Silurian. It whistled by his head and clattered on the street.

  Karvus bounded off the bridge brandishing his battle-axe, ducking sideways just in time to avoid another spear.

  “In there!” Silurian pointed with the tip of his sword and ran toward the building, his head whipping back and forth searching for their attackers. He jumped to his right as one of Melody’s fireballs crashed through a gaping second story window. The flames briefly licked at the scorched wood and went out.

  Melody searched the dark openings for anything that moved. A silhouette rose directly above Silurian, two stories up with a large trident aimed at her unsuspecting brother.

  Stepping clear of her hiding spot, her staff pulsed as the red demon’s arm drew back for the kill. The fireball sizzled through the air without an arc, taking the horned beast in the face, lifting it from its feet and blasting it out of sight.

  The demon’s trident clattered on the ground beside Silurian, eliciting a yelp from the unsuspecting swordsman.

  Melody started toward him but another spear twanged into the ground at her feet, its angle telling her it came from behind.

  She scanned a single-story rooftop looking for the demon responsible but Karvus’ voice drew her attention.

  “Wizard! There!” Karvus pointed down the street beyond her. A trident-bearing demon rounded the far corner of the building she’d been searching.

  She braced herself, finding her focus quicker than she was used to. Her confidence in her ability had grown immeasurably since the day she had replicated the sabre-toothed panther.

  Discharging her staff, the fireball ripped into the demon’s chest, engulfing it in flames.

  She had no time to admire her handiwork. The scrabbling of clawed feet came at her from the opposite direction. Spinning around, two beasts were on her before she had time to mutter the phrase she required.

  She held her staff up with both hands and looked away, screaming as the first demon drove at her, its barbed trident leading the way.

  A whirlwind axe chunked into the demon’s shoulder, driving it off-line to crumple in a spray of dust and black soot.

  Her attention fell on the trailing demon, bigger than the first. Its snarling face turned to see what had happened to its companion. Its head snapped sideways as Karvus hit the beast in full flight, his dagger opening a mortal wound across the demon’s stomach before they hit the ground.

  Melody gave the emperor a quick nod of thanks and searched for Silurian. She couldn’t see him anywhere. A series of roars, followed by higher pitched cries of agony sounded from the building across the street.

  Karvus rolled to his feet, pulled his axe free of the first demon and assumed a battle stance. “Where is he?”

  Melody pointed at what remained of the three-story building. “There.”

  They ran toward the only ground level opening visible in the building’s façade, a doorway covered by a grimy sheet. Spears rained down from the upper stories.

  The anguished whinnies of the horses stopped them in mid-step. The helpless animals flailed on the ground, impaled by wooden shafts.

  “Follow me!” Karvus shouted and tore through the doorway, ripping the cover down.

  Slipping into the opening behind him, Melody shrieked as a spear impacted the doorframe beside her head.

  Muted sunlight shone through cracks in the wallboards and what remained of the collapsed roof timbers exposed through a missing section of the upper floors. Silurian crashed about somewhere ahead of them.

  Karvus dodged around a section of the second floor that had fallen into the first.

  Together they followed a trail of mangled bodies strewn along a hallway—a trail of death indicating Silurian’s route.

  She hated when Silurian did this. Rook used to relate to her stories of Silurian going berserk while fighting with the Group of Five. Rook hadn’t been keen on it either. Whenever Silurian got the notion to fight, he did whatever it took to win the day.

  A creature cried out in pain from above. Its dying body toppled through a hole in the second floor and hit the ground behind her, half of its head missing.

  Melody’s eyes grew wide. She shouldn’t have looked back. Numerous red-eyed demons streamed down the hallway after them.

  She faced the onrushing horde, intoning her spell slower, and more methodical. A fireball coalesced at the tip of her staff, increasing in size. The longer she chanted, the bigger the spell became.

  The first creature leapt over the corpse of the demon that had fallen through the hole, hefting its trident to strike at her.

  “Ignias pyro!” she emphatically completed her chant, barely hanging onto her staff as it recoiled in her hand. It had never done that before.

  The strongest fireball she had ever conjured seared through half a dozen demons before impacting a wall and detonating, levelling any creature s
till alive.

  The shockwave threw her backward and a loud groan shook the building. Past her fluttering robes, as she flew backward through the air, she watched the side walls of the corridor splintering outward with a mixture of awe and horror—the floorboards bucking beneath her. She landed in a heap, holding her hands up in a futile attempt to prevent a large section of the second floor from crashing down on her; the broken timbers ablaze with wizard’s fire.

  Superhuman

  “You’re not going to start blubbering again, are you?” Sadyra squeezed Pollard’s hand and gave him her sweetest smile.

  He didn’t respond to her goading, but a faint smile crossed his lips.

  Sadyra skipped and pulled him along behind her, bounding through the remains of the southeast gatehouse of The Forke. A contented grin dimpled her freckled cheeks.

  Pollard had a long way to go to get back to his old self, but seeing his smile, however forced, was a small miracle. She would take the victory any way she could get it if it meant hope still remained.

  “Och, The Forke,” Olmar said to anyone willing to listen. “Last time we’s through ‘ere we parted ways, eh, Pollard? You and that orange furred beastie and—”

  Sadyra gave him a withering look. Leave it to Lunkhead to say something stupid. At least he’d returned to a former semblance of himself after his horrific fall—chatty, carefree and unthinking.

  Burdened with grief, the wearisome trek up the Spine had seemed to take forever, but they made it up the mountain trail faster than any of them thought possible. Alone with their thoughts, they hadn’t noticed the grueling pace Sadyra had set for them.

  Leaving the mountains behind, they had continued a fast march along Madrigail Walk for the past day and a half. Though the land was little more than frozen tundra, it felt a great deal better than enduring the bone-chilling cold of the mountain heights. Sadyra believed her teeth would never stop chattering.

  Stepping across the barbican’s threshold, Pollard pulled his hand free and unsheathed his sword from over his shoulder.

  Sadyra swallowed the sadness creeping into her. There was something about The Forke that moved her. She shook her head to push her feelings aside. Perhaps it was how the town had affected Pollard the last time they were through here. She needed to be strong for him. She let him take the lead and fell in step with Alhena, forcing herself to smile.

  “Well, you old codger?” She ruffled his full head of hair, trying to mask her pain. “I see your hair is coming back nicely. You no longer look like death warmed over.”

  Alhena leaned away from her hand and gave her a dirty look.

  She laughed. She loved riling up the old man. There was nothing quite as satisfying as pulling the strings of a wizard. Not just an ordinary wizard, either, but the former Wizard of the North.

  “I’m just funning you, Pop’s. You’re cute as ever.” She reached out to pinch his bearded cheek, but he stepped sideways, his scowl no less severe.

  Larina brought up the rear, her bow in hand. She stopped to listen.

  Sadyra caught the concern on her face. “Shh,” she said as loud as she dared. “Larina hears something.”

  Olmar pulled his warhammer free and went to stand beside Larina. She held up a hand to keep him quiet and turned a slow circle, concentrating.

  Sadyra couldn’t hear anything above the sound of The Frothe, gurgling unseen down a side road.

  Pollard’s head whipped to the north. “I hear it. Someone’s fighting. This way.” He darted up an alleyway.

  Sadyra pulled an arrow from her quiver and bolted after him, thankful she and Larina had come across those ash trees on their way up the Spine. Along with the feathers from a couple of geese they had killed on the way, they had restocked their quivers with homemade arrows. The armour-piercing tips would surely be missed but at least they could provide support for the melee fighters—they’d just have to make sure their shots were more accurate.

  She didn’t have to look back to see if the others followed.

  Cries of agony intermingled with growls of rage. The sound of crackling fire, muted though it was through the layer of debris pinning her, concerned Melody.

  Though broken furniture had prevented the weight of the collapsed ceiling from crushing her, the tiny breathing space didn’t allow her to move anything other than her hands and feet without snagging on something sharp. She lay pinned on her back with her head facing over her left shoulder. She tried turning to examine her surroundings but splinters jabbed her cheeks, forcing her to keep her face pointed in one direction, jammed against a foul-smelling rug.

  In the distance, Karvus yelled at something or someone, but she couldn’t make out his words.

  Lying there, considering her options, her breath caught in her throat. Something trapped beneath the wreckage with her stirred, emitting a growl from the direction her face was turned. Not all of the demons had been killed in the explosion.

  Her fingers tightened around her staff—the arm in question pinned behind her, away from her line of vision. If the demon came at her, she wouldn’t be able to hit it—not without hitting herself first.

  Silurian’s voice roared from the same direction Karvus’ had. Given her dire situation, the thought of the two of them fighting together filled her with a strange contentment. Together, they would prove a fearsome duo.

  She thought about calling for help, but she was afraid to alert whatever lay buried down here to her location. If it wasn’t aware of her already.

  She pushed up with her hips and chest but it was no use—the section of ceiling too heavy for her to move.

  The muted growl sounded again. Clearer. Closer.

  Panic trickled into her and rose quickly. She fought the urge to scream. From the sound of her companions’ distant voices, even if they were looking for her, they’d never find her in time. Her only hope was that the demon didn’t know of her presence. With any luck, it was just trying to free itself from the wreckage.

  An explosion shook the debris, sending shock waves through her. Her eyes grew wide, fully expecting the ceiling to shift and crush her. After a few moments she dared to breathe again.

  She searched the darkness in futility, struggling with the significance of the blast. That could only mean one thing. Another magic user had joined the battle. Or a wraith. Or worse.

  She pushed up again, trying to wriggle her body one way and then the other. Straining, a high-pitched grunt escaped her lips, and she froze.

  The demon growled. Closer than before. It approached from the direction her eyes lay. The ceiling trembled on top of her.

  She heard the distinct ‘thwap’ of an arrow striking a target close by, immediately followed by the yelp of an injured demon. Another ‘thwap’ and another screech.

  That didn’t make sense. Neither Silurian nor Karvus carried ranged weapons. Whoever it was, hopefully they had killed the demon stalking her.

  The ceiling pressed down. At first, she thought it had shifted, about to crush her, but it hadn’t. It undulated. A thumping pressure pushed down on her and then let off, pushed down and let off, coinciding with the sound of wood being torn apart.

  Her blood froze in her veins. A deep growl sounded almost on top of her. The ceiling shook—the vibrations punctuated by loud crashing. Something broke through the wooden structure, over and over again; the thumping closing on her with each terrifying shake.

  Her staff flared in her fingers but she didn’t know where to direct the fireball. Anything she conjured would either bring the entire weight of the ceiling down on top of her or engulf the area with fire, and burn herself alive. If she used a freezing spell would surely kill herself. Her cloak wasn’t designed to repel cold magic.

  She swallowed her mounting terror, employing the calming techniques Phazarus had taught her. She hadn’t thought about those long, boring lessons since leaving the safety of Dragon’s Tooth. She smiled inwardly. Perhaps the old wizard’s lessons were useful after all. She wished she had listened when
she had the chance.

  The growl sounded right next to her. The light radiating from her powered staff barely penetrated beyond her body, but it was enough to shine on a set of baleful, red eyes staring straight at her. She could just make out the demon’s slathering fangs gnashing together in what she perceived was anticipation.

  She closed her eyes and discharged her staff, not caring if the fireball went through her to reach the demon.

  Larina kept an eye on Olmar hefting his mighty hammer around for another swing at the backside of a demon that tearing through the floorboards—its head hidden from view. The beast was ripping through the collapsed second story digging for something and Olmar was chasing after it.

  He swung at the demon several times, never quite connecting with the creature’s frenetic passage.

  Other demons jumped at Olmar from what remained of the of the floors above but he paid them no mind, trusting his life to Sadyra and Larina as their arrows found mark after mark.

  A demon slipped through their barrage and landed on his back, its claws raking into his thick leather armour. Larina’s arrow sent it flying before it had a chance to tear his throat out.

  The demon Olmar chased suddenly stopped. His awkward gait nearly had him tripping over the scrabbling creature. His warhammer whooshed high through the air, the weapon’s head heavier than a finishing anvil, and thundered into the floorboards just beyond where the demon’s neck disappeared.

  Wood splintered. The demon shrieked, and the floor exploded in Olmar’s face, showering him in a blast of splinters and fire.

  Larina gaped, her notched arrow slipping down her bow.

  Olmar lost his grip on his weapon and flew backward, landing in a heap amongst the debris. His warhammer arced high overhead, crashing dangerously close beside him.

  Larina hopped from one fallen timber to the next, her movements catlike; wary of the diminishing flames lapping at the previously burnt wood.

  A demon flew at her from above.