Darius Chapter 37

Heldrus threw himself to the floor, dodging the outstretched claws on Peskimir’s right hand. Her left hand still had fingers, but they were deadened and grey, and the red scales were creeping across her body, consuming what remained of her humanity. She skittered along the floor, crouching into a cat-like posture as she revolved to face her prey. The shock in her eyes had turned to malice, and he scraped around the battered room on her reptilian feet. She seemed to have superhuman strength in her legs, darting around the room with agility that far surpassed any worldly creature. She darted out at Heldrus again, and he rolled into a crouch, desperately trying to avoid contact with whatever contaminated his friend.

One touch, one scrape and I’ll become that.

He bolted out the shattered doorway into the front room. His sword rested in its scabbard next to the mat he’d slept on. The one time he remembered to take it from his horse’s pack, and he didn’t want to use it. The monster was still Peskimir, even if it didn’t know it. He still drew the blade, kicking the scabbard across the floor and pointing the blade at Peskimir, hoping that whatever had consumed her would still register the danger of the shimmering blade. The other patients in the front had mostly escaped into the brisk night, but two remained huddled in a back corner amongst the ruins of a desk. They stared with wide eyes at the pandemonium and the rampaging monster in front of them. One of them, a young girl, whimpered in fright, moments before her mother clamped a palm over her mouth, keeping her silent. Peskimir’s head flicked round, and a forked tongue snaked out from her thin, cracked lips. She stepped towards the mother and daughter, crouching down nearly onto all fours.

Heldrus really, really didn’t want to be involved any more. He wanted to dash through the curtains, find his horse, then gallop as far as he could from this place, even back to Erinstone if that’s what it took. But he knew he had to help. He stepped forward as well, then stamped his foot, hoping to catch Peskimir’s attention. The monster concentrated on its unarmed prey, closing in on the cowering pair. It was now or never.

He strode forward, lashing out in a half-hearted slice across his body. It would be enough to leave a deep slice, but not remove a limb. The monster didn’t react, and the blade made contact.

Then it bounced off.

The scales were hard, like a bodysuit of chainmail that didn’t weigh enough to drag its wearer down. Peskimir noticed him now, and turned on him, forgetting the mother and daughter who took the opportunity to scamper across the litter-covered floor and out onto the swaying walkways. Heldrus heard the child wail in the night, but they faded as the mother bolted away, carrying her.

This time, Peskimir didn’t seem concerned about the blade that swayed before her. A strange growl escaped her throat, somewhere between a lizard’s hiss and a human choking. Heldrus found himself backed up against the wall, no longer able to edge back from the monster closing in on him.

“Peskimir, please. If you’re in there, I need you to fight it. Just, please, hold it back for a moment.”

The monster swiped out at Heldrus, going for his head. He ducked, and a set of claws dug into the wall where his eyes had been just moments before. It ripped its claws out, pulling free the whole wooden board and a patch of the wall around it. Heldrus felt something impact his head, and for a moment he thought he’d been touched, but it was just a falling piece of wood. He rolled across the floor under the lashing arm of the monster, rolling into a low crouch.

“Peskimir, please. I’m going to hurt you. PESKIMIR!”

His words had no effect, and as the scaled beast leapt at him, going for the kill, he steadied his blade. He could see the shocked look returning to Peskimir’s eyes as he sent his weight forward, driving his sword through the monster’s stomach. His blade pierced the first layer of scales and dug into the flesh but didn’t come out through the hardy scales of Peskimir’s back. It yowled and sprang back, dark purple blood falling to the floor. It bubbled and steamed on the floor like Peskimir’s whole body was consumed with heat, pure lava coursing through her. The wound would have disemboweled a human, but Peskimir was still walking. It screeched a shrill cry at Heldrus and darted through the curtains, escaping into the night.

Heldrus slumped, avoiding the mass of monster-blood that crept over the floors, covering them in a sticky purple glaze. He wiped his sword on a piece of cloth or carpet or some other furnishing that had been torn from the walls. Realizing that probably wasn’t a sufficient method of sanitation for an infectious monster, he got to his feet and picked through the Healing House to the backroom, looking for some kind of alcohol.

Peskimir had done some serious damage to the room. Broken capsules of various liquids and poultices covered the floor, their contents spilling out and mingling to create an unpleasant aroma. A whole array of medical tools like prongs and knives and rods were scattered on the benches, some showing traces of purple blood.

They must have tried to amputate some of it.

He hadn’t heard any shouts or screams of pain whilst he’d been out the front, so it was possible the healers had sedated her, explaining why she hadn’t broken out until halfway through the night. If she’d woken up in that state while the healers were around, and the House was more packed...

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about how bringing her here nearly destroyed the village.

He found a small crucible-like mechanism that was used to sterilize medical equipment with heat. He had seen them in the Erinstone infirmary, so he shopped around the cupboards that had remained intact, looking for the small oil bottles and packets of charcoal that Erinstone had. He eventually found them at the back of a low cupboard that had its door ripped apart and tossed across the room in splinters. Pouring a small amount of combustible liquid in the bottom of the crucible, he placed two handfuls of charcoal over it, then stamped on a pedal attached to the floor, sending a hammer into the mechanism and lighting it. He’d put in a bit too much liquid, and some of the charcoal shot out with a bang, hitting his forehead.

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Once the coals were hot, he ran his sword over them where the blood had stained it. He could see a purple stain on the blade, but as the heat dried it out, it sizzled and faded. Satisfied, he turned off the burner by placing a ceramic lid over the top. The scabbard still lay on the floorboards in the front room, discarded among the rubble. He picked it up and attached it to his belt, sliding the warm sword back in.

Well, I guess I should step outside and see the damage.

He parted the curtains, ready to see the village up in flames and hundreds of contaminated villagers. Instead, the night remained calm, and the only people going about the settled village were old men loosening their tight joints and backs with a midnight walk. One man even had his eyes closed as he strode around the high walkways – he had probably walked these paths his whole life. A warm breeze raced through the intricate paths, channeled along the areas beneath the village, whistling. The Healing House, despite the ruckus, was the only building to have sustained the fevered damage that Peskimir had caused in her rampage.

Gotta stop calling it Peskimir. She’s gone.

Admitting it felt like giving up, but there wasn’t much hope left. The corruption had spread through almost the entirety of her body, and in retrospect, he didn’t think Peskimir had such little hair on her head. She usually tied it up which made it harder to tell, but the monster was claiming every part of her, transforming her body into something completely foreign.

He sat down on a creaky plank and tried not to let his mind wander too far.

Were we friends? It feels like we were.

He thought over their journey from meeting in the kalforest to fighting their way through Layla’s bandits, and the Trenks that tried to eat them.

A teardrop splashed on his thigh.

We were friends.

He felt very alone now. Alone on the other side of the Continent, where the thing that knew him best was probably his horse.

Two days after touching that plant, she’s gone.

He got to his feet and followed the paths to the stables. He didn’t look up at where he was going until he almost stepped through a large hole in the walkway. Stopping himself just in time, he looked at the trail of destruction leading out of the stables. It looked like a boulder had tumbled down the Tralmont Mountains and taken flight, landing in the middle of the stables and then blasting out into the wilderness.

So he had been wrong about the damage to the village. Strangely, there were no villagers inspecting the ruins. The stables were on the outskirts of the village, which might’ve hidden the noise, and the breeze was blowing it the other direction. Heldrus stepped through, dodging the evidence of purple blood that must have come from Peskimir’s horse. He’d forgotten about that issue once his hands were full with Peskimir. It looked like Bingo had been gone a while – the purple blood had mostly dried, leaving behind foul stains soaked into the wood.

That would be one big monster.

He found his horse in its stall, alarmed but free of any suspicious red blotches. The stall still had all four walls, suggesting that monster-Bingo hadn’t attacked the other animals – it had instead just tried to escape. He led the horse out into the yard, following the trail of blood and hair. It followed an almost straight trajectory, facing the Tralmont Mountains.

The village had multiple points of access, and out the back of the stables, Heldrus found an unguarded door just tall enough to take the horse under. He lay flat on the horse’s back as they passed under, then turned right, looking out for the debris from Bingo’s trail of destruction. It wasn’t hard to find the matted horsehair blowing around in the wind, and the tainted grass that came with it. Heldrus noticed splotches of fresh blood too that could have been Peskimir’s. That, or he was about to face a demon horse. He urged his horse forward, projecting in his head the path that the blood was taking. Sure enough, it pointed directly up the mountain. He pushed his knees against the horse’s shoulders, and it started a trot, bouncing him in the saddle and taking him from the rolling village. He traversed the steep incline until he was almost at the height of the husband and wife’s camp they’d run into on their descent the previous day. From this far away, he could see the dull glow cast out by the fire flowers that had infected Peskimir. They lit the base of the mountain like false beacons, attracting animals and perhaps the odd human, like had happened to Peskimir. He shuddered at the thought of how close he was to touching the flower when he’d jumped off his horse to inspect one.

I told Peskimir to look at it, too. So it’s my fault.

He could feel the mental spiral coming back, so he shook his head, letting his hair catch and flip around in the strong wind. One advantage of being up so high was that the sound of wind through his ears gave him something to concentrate on, letting him avoid the more painful thoughts he was dealing with.

He’d lost sight of the horse’s blood and hair trail, but his curiosity was quickly rewarded with something more certain. The nomadic couple’s flock of sheep was restless, backing away from the twitching form of one of their brethren. The animal’s wool was ragged and torn, falling away in places, and it squealed and shrieked like a boiling kettle. Heldrus knew what had happened before he saw it. The beast stiffened, then jolted to its feet, though its hooves had not been replaced with claws. It ran, almost comically, on three legs, a fight going on in the creature's brain between the sheep and the infection.

As expected, the infection won.

The monster steadied itself and went silent, an eerie sight in the pale moonlight, then its head jerked around like it was being pulled by an invisible force, and it raced up the mountain.

Heldrus chased, urging his horse into a gallop despite the dark conditions. The former sheep bounced off a rock, struggling to see in the darkness, but persevered, unperturbed by the slight injury. Heldrus was considering getting close and trying to put it out of its misery, then it jumped sideways, slipping into a concealed crack in the mountain.

Heldrus dismounted when he reached the crack. It was well-hidden until one stood close to it, where he saw a short corridor that thinned into a crevice near the end. The sheep was struggling to squeeze through the crevice when it suddenly slid open, and two hands grabbed the wild monster.

Two scaled hands.