Chapter 8 - Harrowing

Caius was already firing, as the abomination swarmed towards us. His composite bow was heavily enchanted, his arrows even more so - Each one made a spitting noise as he let fly, the heavy shafts spitting as they hissed through the air.

He never missed. The grinding crack as they punctured their target was as loud as gunshots, his firing rate astonishingly rapid; He put four arrows into the thing as it closed the distance, nocking the next arrow as soon as the last one was released.

There was immense force in each shot, the same force that had punched through flesh and bone alike and into organ-meat. It felt like nothing could have stopped it-

Except the misbegotten required no organs to live.

"God of Earth!" Jozan shouted, his holy symbol raised. "Bring ruination to the unholy - Shatter the foe!"

There was an odd, hard bang, painful to feel and hear. A quick concussive vibration of air, an unseen but palpable force that slammed into the undead horror head-on. Madly glaring eyes burst, like clusters of grapes; A plume of foul water erupted upwards, the walls splintering under the feedback-

And it burst through the geyser, and kept coming.

Nothing stopped it. Not the shockwave, not the arrows that whistled past us and thunked into the thing's unliving flesh. A throwing axe hurtled past, glanced off. Someone hurled flaming oil, and the flask shattered against the misbegotten's bulk, burning oil spraying in a blanket of rippling flame - It clung to the horror, putrefying meat roasting, mingling with the wretched smell of burning hair.

There were five of us facing it head-on, a ragged line of defense. Skander had a huge cleaver in one hand, an axe in the other as he muscled his way forward, teeth gritted in a savage rictus as he braced for impact. 

Heiter, with his twin swords. 

Kashan-

Kashan stood there open-mouthed, pure horror on his face as it rushed towards him. I don't know what he saw, don't know what kept him frozen, his hands empty, only that the unliving nightmare saw it too.

I slammed into him, as hard as I could, shoulder-barging him out of the way. I swear he flew fifteen feet, as if he'd been flung rather than pushed - But then all I saw was the meat-horror's howling mass as it came towards me.

Roulle hurled a javelin, and it stuck quivering into the thing's flank. With a desperate effort, I hurled myself to the side, swinging the Interfector with all the strength I could muster-

The flaming blade hacked deep. It was a scouring blow, searing through meat and into whatever lay beneath. Foul-smelling steam boiled into the air, blue fire spewing forth from the wound. It did absolutely nothing to slow it; It wasn't alive in any sense of the word.

It couldn't be killed the way a human could be killed.

Skander let out a roar, and surged forward. He hacked into the thing, ripping through ribs. There was tremendous force in his blows, bones splintering as he drove both weapons into that seething mass. But - as strong as he was - there was no arguing with the undead amalgam's unholy strength, a yellowed horn gouging against his armor as it lifted him from his feet.

That didn't stop him. He had his axe and cleaver buried into the monster's bulk, like fangs. When he ripped them free, old blood and yellow fat welled out from the rending wounds, the ivory gleam of teeth showing below. It swung around, violently, and smashed him into the wall; He grunted, sparks flying as his armor scoured the surface, his grip slackening.

"Bastard thing-"

One of the men ran at it from the side, swinging a claymore. A twisted limb reached out, and yanked his leg out from under him - I heard him scream as he vanished beneath the creature's bulk, bone and armor splintering as it crushed him beneath that suppurating weight.

Someone - I don't know who - simply turned and fled, headlong into the dark. I honestly couldn't blame him.

Like a ghost, Throne Gazer appeared from behind. His bladed spear struck, and struck again; He sheared through the mismatched arms and legs that stabilized the creature's bulk, the keen edge ripping into those orphaned limbs. He must have thought he was safe, up until a pseudopod - A flailing fist of bone and muscle - erupted from the thing's surface, and smashed him away.

"Use the arrows!"

The bitter tang of acid hung in the air, as a green arrow punched into the seething mass. It bubbled, a heartbeat before a yellow bolt of lightning blasted chunks of meat free, desiccated organs tumbling from the horror's flank - A blue streak glanced from the creature's weeping bulk, a slick of ice spreading across the ground as the water froze underfoot.

A white flash. Another. Caius had switched to the white-fletched arrows, and these were charged with some potent enchantment. They flashed like laser fire, and exploded in bursts of brilliant radiance where they struck. The horror reeled back, like a dog stung by hornets, secondary mouths opening for a bleak, ululating scream-

A blot of unutterable blackness gathered before it. It was cold, deathly cold, sucking heat and light from the world, swelling as it did.

Caius's eyes went wide.

"Get down-"

A line of black fire spewed forth. It sheared two men in half, ripping right through them in a shearing line. One exploded when he was hit, blood and bone shrapnel hurtling out in every direction at once; the other simply fell apart, writhing, screaming, as everything within him spilled out in a bloody tumble.

Skander - somehow, somehow - swung his axe like a pick, hooking it high. He pulled with all his strength, muscles bunching. The seething beam swung wide, unholy force shattering the walls instead; stone exploded, razor fragments ricocheted from the roof and ground. One of our archers was hit, bloody holes punched in his side, and he went down clutching at the bloody stain spreading across his tunic.

This all seemed to be happening curiously slowly. It seemed like I'd barely found my footing, barely reared back to swing again, and at least three men were already dead. The Interfector scorched through the air, as I hacked an arm clean off. Another, the stench enough to make my eyes water; Vivid blue flame seared, severed limbs twitching underfoot like the legs of a half-crushed spider.

Blood sprayed out at me. Blood, and worse things. Mouths snapped at my fingers - A snapping maw clamped down on my vambrace, endless rows of grinding teeth worrying at the mythril, trying to find a way through. Revolted, I cried out-

And then a loop of stinking entrails coiled around my neck like a whip, more of them snaking around me like the foulest serpents. I thrashed, hacking through them, but they constricted even as they were orphaned - I had to stagger back, chopping them up in wild swathes of arc-welder flame.

"Go back to Hell!" I heard Skander shout. His next blow mustered so much force, his cleaver shattered under the impact. The shards of it ripped through great loops and coils of muscle, opening a suppurating wound. Dead fingers reached out through it, and he swung his axe over and over again, sending them flying-

It wouldn't die. It just wouldn't die. Dimly, even in the midst of that horror, I realized that it would not end, until the thing was hacked apart. One malformed head vomited a stream of gastric acid, and a spearman reeled back, his arm scorched to the bone; A horn speared through his thigh, and the undead horror smashed him into the wall over and over again, until all that remained was red paste.

With that unholy strength, it heaved Skander aside. He crossed the ground on his back, swearing as he rolled and tumbled and splashed in the foul water. Roulle staggered in front of him, raising a shield, and they both went over when a huge, grotesquely swollen arm unfurled from the thing's side, bone-hook claws ripping deep furrows into the metal square.

It lunged for Brother Jozan, where he knelt by a wounded man's side. He'd been chanting desperately, trying to staunch the man's wounds, but now he had to turn to defend him. With a defiant strength, he raised his holy symbol - "Back!" he shouted. "Back into the darkness, away from the sight of the Pure!"

The holy symbol flared with cold power, and the oncoming monster recoiled. Actually recoiled, long enough for Caius to skewer it with three arrows, white flame gouting from the impacts. It rocked forward, as he shouted-

"Run, lad!"

And it hurled itself at Jozan anyway.

There was no way, none, that he could escape in time. Not without abandoning his charge, and he knew it. Instead, he turned, heaving his shield into place, bracing himself for the bone-breaking impact to come…

Heiter came out of the dark. Running, faster than I'd ever seen. He had both swords gripped in his fists, held reversed like long knives, and he made no sound as he hurled himself onto the thing's back.

It was a hell of a jump. When he leapt, he left the ground as if he was flying - Both blades glowed with the same cold white light I'd seen, and he put his entire weight behind the blow as he sank them to their hilts. That sterile radiance seared forth, the undead horror's flesh crisping as it spread-

The creature bucked, wailing through many mouths. It tried to throw him off, tried to scrape him across the walls, against the ceiling, but he held on. His weapons were like climber's pitons - the lambent light welled out from the wounds, causing immeasurable distress, but already it was guttering out. Heiter tried, but he couldn't keep it going; it was all he could do to cling on, twisting his blades, heedless of the toxic blood that smoked as it spattered his form.

It was then - right then - that I knew what I had to do.

---------------------

I'd seen that light before. It was an echo of the illumination that had radiated from Sabrine's hands, the same the priests summoned when tending to the wounded. Heiter's desperate attack was another expression of that, focused into a blast that scoured away all that was unclean.

I was on my feet, as I chopped through the last of the entrails, as the foul lengths writhed and twisted on the ground like snakes. The shuddering bulk fought on, continuing to kill; One man dodged left when he should've dodged right, circling his heavy flail, and a dripping worm-limb snatched him off his feet. It pulled him close for a moment, his scream becoming something burbling, something full of agony-

And when it hurled him aside, I could see that it'd ripped his face off, something vile and gnawing burrowing through his chest cavity.

I forced myself to move faster. Faster.

It saw me coming. How, I don't know: Somehow, it knew what I was planning. Mottled, gnarled tentacles surged out from that suppurating mass, some ending in bony tusks, others in gnashing lamprey-mouths full of human teeth.

Skander's axe came hurtling out of the dark, and carved halfway through the thickest tendril. A flight of arrows from Caius punched into the wretched creature, withering the thing's flesh as I closed, both hands clamped around the Interfector's hilt.

I reached within myself, for the power I'd only brought forth twice. I could feel it coursing through me, my limbs stinging with strength; In my mind's eye, I could see it. A twisting, sparking, coruscating bolt of frozen fire, crackling from the core of my being, down through my arms, into the Interfector's hilt. Like the leaping arc of lightning to a lightning-rod, like the flame of a match frozen in time.

In my ears, the rising hum of power...

The Interfector's fires went from blue to white, glowing like a steel bar white-hot from the forge. Twisting streamers of radiance coiled along the blade, flaring with a magnesium blaze; the harsh, unwavering light bleached color from the world, flinging stark and distorted shadows along the walls.

I stabbed. Everything I had left - The full strength of my arms. Every ounce of force I could muster.

The hissing, spitting blade punched into the lurching horror's side, a blazing lance spearing into the monstrosity's core. I heard it scream, a great wailing shriek, one that shook grit from the high-vaulted roof, that made the filthy water underfoot ripple and churn in rising peaks. Tiny, malformed fingers writhed and clawed at me, nail scraping against my armor, trying to kill me, to rip me to shreds, to make me stop-

I sent the power through the blade. Not to heal.

Jagged white cracks spiderwebbed from the Interfector's blade, flaws racing across the undead abomination's form. Light poured out, cold and sterile, from the thing's many, many mouths, dead eyes lighting up from within with that sterile radiance. Straight lines of eye-hurting white light stabbed out from within, searing out from the very pores of the horror's dead flesh.

My hands locked around my weapon. I couldn't let go, not even if I wanted to. The power was pouring out from me, surging through Gabriel's sword in an unstoppable, annihilating torrent. I strained, without knowing how: Gashes filled with the same terrible light opened up across the putrefying meat, spreading and splitting, faster and wider and longer-

For a single moment, the horror burned white. It blazed with a star's brightness, purifying flame swelling and leaping from the rents and wounds carved into its very substance.

I felt the great, soundless explosion first, a soft wind over my face, a light lifting of filthy water that gusted and sprayed.

Then the shockwave hit.

Air kicked me in the face, lifting me up off the ground and hurling me back. For one dizzying moment, I was in flight; then my limbs hit the ground with a brutal smack, chips of stone grating against my armor-

...In my ears, a high-pitched whine...

With a slow, majestic surge of rippling flame, the abomination came apart like an overripe fruit. Greedy white fire churned within it, eating it away from within. The thing's substance flaked away into a swirling shroud of blossoming ash, raining down like snow.

I lurched back, slipped, went down. A terrible fatigue clung to me, the darkness pressing in at the corners of my vision as I tried to catch my breath. My chest heaved, lungs burning with the need for air as I fought to stand; I couldn't seem to get my feet under me, couldn't seem to let go of the Interfector as the sword's flames guttered and flickered-

The white light dimmed. Blue was in the ascendance, burning cold against my palms.

"Blood of the Gods," Kashan swore. Somehow, he'd survived, a nasty bruise speckling his face. Disheveled but whole, he limped over to me, his eyes wide. He moved gingerly, like a man who couldn't believe that he was still alive or in one piece, his clothes stained with foul water.

"You killed it-"

"No," I said. My voice was a rasp - I drew a shallow breath, then another. Serenely, ash sifted down from above; I thought of what was in it, and felt my stomach churn.

Slowly, ever-so-slightly, my head was clearing. I flexed unsteady fingers around my sword's grip, aware of the hoarfrost that blistered my gauntlets, the blood running down my arm.

I hadn't even felt the cut.

Caius was getting to his feet, shaking grit and ash from his coat. Heiter was still gripping his swords, one of them chipped and battered - He looked like he was about to throw it away, then simply clutched it tighter to his chest. On all sides, men groaned and staggered to their feet, checking themselves for injuries, helping up the fallen, wading out of the muck.

"We killed it."

---------------------

"Geld's gone. So's Linel."

"They're...dead? Just dead?"

I think I may have been in shock, just a little. My senses were still reeling from what I'd seen, what I'd done - All in the span of a few furious minutes.

It seemed impossible that, already, we'd lost five men.

Just like that, in what felt like an eyeblink.

Someone had covered those ruptured, burned bodies with cloaks - the ones we could find, at least. For the ones who had been hit head-on by the horror's death blast, there was nothing left to be retrieved.

"We can't leave them here," Tomas was saying, sounding stricken. "It's not right, having them rot in a place like this-"

I was trying - so very carefully - not to look. But I could still see them, in my mind's-eye; Those bodies trampled, sawn apart, smashed into red paste by the abomination's unholy strength. Blood mingled with the foul waters underfoot.

"Aye," Caius said. He sounded grimly resigned. "We'll take them with us. Far as we can - Then we'll leave them somewhere safe, come back for them later."

Through some dark miracle, none of the survivors were badly wounded. It'd simply happened too quickly; Some hadn't even had the chance to get close, to swing their weapons. Brother Jozan moved among them, murmuring his prayers, wisps of ghostly light marking his work.

The man who'd fled had returned, shamefaced, but no further comment had been made. Recriminations, if any, would come later - For now, the mission was all that mattered.

"Who are you, really?"

I looked up. Heiter had - somehow - survived without a scratch, though his armor was scorched and stained by the horror's corrosive fluids. The look he was giving me was an odd one; Not unfriendly, but quizzical, almost confused. As if he wasn't sure what he was seeing, but it didn't add up.

"What?" I said, wincing as I drew myself upright. In the chaos of the fight, the reeking stench of the sewer had been forgotten, entirely eclipsed by the undead horror's - Now, it was back, as urgent as a fist in the face.

"The misbegotten," he said, his eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed. "We weren't hurting it, not really. But that sword of yours...You killed it." He snapped his fingers. "Like that."

This was a topic I wasn't keen on exploring. Wearily, I shook my head - I could feel fresh bruises, and they were beginning to ache. "That was mostly you," I said. "If you hadn't jumped on it when you did - We'd all be dead. Or worse."

Heiter's mouth set in a thin line. "I only scratched it," he insisted. "I've only seen Lady Sabrine do something like that. But I've never heard of you, before the Hollow Mountain: Where are you from? Who are you?"

What are you?

I reached for the power, thinking to will my bruises away. The long gash on my arm was beginning to ache abominably, made worse by how I couldn't scratch it. Just trying made the world lurch around me, the sensation like an abrupt, intense bout of vertigo.

"I'm on your side," I said. "Isn't that enough?"

His brow furrowed, but Heiter shrugged, as if his curiosity was satisfied.

"It is," he said. "-For now."

He gave me one last look before he splashed away, to where the others were.

---------------------

Throne Gazer had taken a bad hit - He'd been swatted into the wall with stunning force - but he was up and walking under his own power, which was more than could be said for the dead. He'd nodded, solemnly, when he'd heard of the casualties: "We must press on," he said, sombre. "If we fail, their deaths will have been in vain."

It was a cheery thing to consider, now we'd lost a quarter of our forces. We hadn't even left the sewers - hadn't even seen a beastman - yet. The dead, wrapped in cloaks, were carried along as we trudged through the muck. I was glad I didn't have to look at them, not directly, but the leaden weight was a constant reminder of what our burden was.

And a burden it was.

Before, I'd never even considered the weight and untidy sprawl of a corpse. The aching reminder of what had been lost, leaving only the untended ruin of absence. Here and now, as we labored on, I doubted it was something I would ever forget.

Brother Jozan had urged that we quicken our pace. "For the sake of the wounded, if nothing else," he'd warned. "The filth-fever sets in quickly, and I'd prefer to save my prayers for the fight to come." He carried a precious half-dozen antidotes with him, but he refused to hand them out until we were somewhere clean.

There were some angry murmurs, some grumbling, as Kashan led the way. He couldn't have known what had been lying in wait, but there was a distinct sense of resentment, all the same. Personally, I was just glad I wasn't in his shoes.

Caius was conferring with the priest, in a low voice: "...shrugged off my arrows like it was nothing," he was saying. "And those were blessed by our best armorers. Never seen anything like it."

"-some kind of curse hangs over this place," Jozan said, so low I had to strain to pick it up. "Or it could have been the nature of their deaths. Either could have created that...horror."

"You're sure the Cloven didn't create something like that?"

"If they did, Sergeant...They would be upon us right now."

I heard Caius sigh, rubbing at his chin. "That's a comforting thought, aye. Best to just get on with it, then."

---------------------

I'd expected an ambush. More unspeakable horrors, maybe. Several hundred screaming beastmen pouring out from the shadows, howling for blood. Instead, there was only the reeking darkness, and an interminable trudge through a lamplight gloom.

It might have just been my imagination, but it felt like it was getting subtly brighter. Less dark, at least, the tunnels dryer, without that slick sheen of liquid filth.

When Kashan stopped, I tensed, instinctively. He was staring at a certain alcove, no different from the dozens we'd passed - Leaning in close, as if to confirm his suspicions.

"This is it," he said, all at once. "We're here!"

As if at Kashan's words, the solid-seeming wall became a steel door, perfectly flush with the stonework. It looked solid enough to stand forever, to withstand fists and axe-blows alike; From the scratches that scarred the surface, it probably had.

I think that if not for the looming threat, a cheer would probably have gone up.

"This should open onto the warehouse's basement," he said, wiping at his brow - At some point, he'd lost his hat, which meant that his efforts only spread the muck against his balding pate. "I told you I'd get you here-"

"Get on with it," Skander growled, and Caius rested a calming hand on his arm.

"Give it a moment," he said. "Weapons ready, lads."

There was a dull thump as the stiffening bodies were set down, weapons drawn with a faint rattle of steel. The passage here was notably narrower, but not as narrow as the door - I didn't know much about soldiering, but it didn't take a genius to tell that this could go badly, very fast.

"Right - Like we practiced. We'll lead, and sing out if we see anything. Move quickly; No good to anyone if we all get trapped, see?"

Caius kept his voice calm, measured, but I could sense the tension to his words. He nodded to Kashan, a dip of his head. "Whenever you're ready."

---------------------

The door shuddered back on its rusty hinges, light spilling into the narrow passage. There was a salty, resiny smell, the kind associated with preserved fish or rotting onions.

But it was fresh air, and - after the stench of the sewer - it felt like a blessing.

There was a moment's silence. Nothing stirred, except for the dust drifting in the gloomy air. Caius pointed, straight ahead: A short set of steps, leading up into the cellar

The Interfector's flames had dimmed to a dull blue glow, but it was still enough to see the basement by; We fanned forward, moving as quietly as we could manage. I tried not to get in the way, my nerves singing with tension, expecting an ambush any moment now-

Up the stairs. Caius and Heiter, bow and swords ready. No time to pause - the key was staying in motion, no matter what. I was next, hurrying after them; I glimpsed brickwork, a room hemmed in by the vague shape of stacked crates…

Something passed through the air, and landed at our feet. Small, barely even a clatter. Like nuts, or…

-seeds-

A moment's confusion-

"Move!"

And suddenly, the world was filled with green. Writhing, lashing vines, growing upward and outward with explosive force; Wrist-thick, thorny, surging to life all around us. Heiter was already tangled up in them, lost in the sudden thicket - Caius had almost made it, but one was lashed around his arm, another around his leg. He'd got his sword out and was hacking away grimly at the vines, his face bloody where the thorns had drawn blood.

If I hadn't already been moving, I'd have been ensnared, too. Instead, I hurled myself forward, in the longest impromptu dive of my life. I hit the ground with a clatter of armor, struggled to my feet as I brought the Interfector to bear-

A flicker of motion, at the corner of my eye…

Too late, I swung around. The blade caught me across the shoulder-plate, and threw me down to the cellar floor. I rolled, immediately, as it sheared free from my armor - Slicing at me in a vicious follow-up, one I barely fended off. The next stroke clipped my hair, the razor-steel whistling past my ear by mere inches.

There was no time to think. No time to do anything but fight for my life.

My attacker was a taut silhouette, moving so fast it was simply a blur. The dim light glittered off peerless steel, a curving blade that made the air scream as it was cut. I threw up the Interfector in a desperate parry-

Sparks flared. Blue fire leapt up, coiling around us as our blades locked. A face glared between the crossed blades at me: Handsome, the dark eyes piercing, mesmerizing. Perfect white teeth bared in a snarl, inches from my own…

I felt an abrupt jolt of realization, and felt something - wound tight, inside my chest - uncoiling.

"You're-"

"...human," he finished, surprise flaring in his eyes. He stepped back, so abruptly I nearly staggered; I got an impression of black and gold half-armor over a once-white coat, now stained with dirt and gore. His sword, however, had been well-cared for, like a stainless-steel surgical tool. It lowered, but he didn't sheath it, his topknot swaying at that slight motion.

"Unless you mean to be my enemy," he said, "Stop pointing that at me."

I lowered the Interfector, the high song of adrenaline still singing in my veins. When the swordsman looked past me, his expression soured - "Release them," he said, and there was a silky threat to his voice.

I saw, at last, the pale, frightened features of a slender brownette huddled behind the crates; Even in a ragged shift, she was preternaturally graceful, with fine, delicate features-

Those ears, I thought, with a start. Elves. Real, live elves-

She shrank back, like a whipped dog, and the twisting vines withered away. Heiter let out a grunt, shaking himself as he pulled free - Caius's brow furrowed, as he wrenched a trailing creeper off his arm.

"My apologies," the swordsman said, slickly. "I thought you were beastmen...You quite startled me." The corners of his mouth curved upwards, in a thin-lipped smile.

"I congratulate you," he said, directly to me. "Few have crossed swords with me and survived."

I'll admit: I didn't like him. It was an instinctive dislike for his high-handed ways - That, and how only pure dumb luck had kept him from killing me. "I'll consider myself blessed," I said, doing my best to keep my voice level. "We're with the Holy Knights. And you are?"

Steel whispered on leather, as he sheathed his sword with a fluid grace - His hand straying to the golden glyph on the armor buckled across his chest.

"Shujiro," he said. "Shujiro Kinugasa, of Tenzen."

He canted his head to the side, his smile fading - slowly - as he took our measure.

"This isn't a rescue, is it?"

Next: Griffin's Gate