Darius Chapter 39

The cavern wall was ever-so-slightly convex, meaning the first half of Heldrus’s descent was easier. After that, the wall curled inwards, and each cell would leave him partially dangling, with constant tension on his biceps, wrists and fingers as they held on for dear life. A single slip would leave him falling into thin air. If that happened, he could only hope he was high enough to die from the impact. The alternative was that he would be transformed into one of the creatures, which didn’t have the same appeal as a quick death.

He considered his plan for a while before committing to his current strategy of shimmying down with one foot in each cell, gripping the wall between them with his hands. He watched the creatures work, conscious that Peskimir could come out at any moment. He felt like the appearance of the monsters rang a bell – like some children’s story meant to scare kids into going to bed on time or arriving home before dark. He couldn’t put his finger on it – bedtime stories weren’t a common pastime in the Avongold household.

He began his descent, making good, stable progress. Facing the dull stone, he could only assume nothing had spotted him. Even if they did, he wasn’t sure he could climb back up with this technique. He was all-in.

He did his best to stay silent. Every now and then, his foot would slip a little to one side before steadying itself in a different position, and he had to resist the exclamation rising to his lips, threatening to blow his cover. He had small cuts and grazes on his hands caused by the severe grip he had on the rocks. He began to feel fatigue in his left hand, and he hung it off the wall behind him, shaking the pain out. In return, his right hand throbbed, willing him to get to safer ground. He hurried down to the bottom of the next cell where he could lean into the wall and rest. He pushed his face into the wall and hung his hands behind him, wiping off the sweat on his shirt. His sword wasn’t making the descent any easier, as it kept bending in and clanging on the wall when he bent his right knee. In slow, calculated motions, he unclipped the scabbard from his belt with his free hand, taking care not to twist his body or put his mass off balance. Using both hands, he found the middle of his back and reattached the scabbard, bracing himself for the extra weight pulling him down. It was far more comfortable than being dragged to the side, and the rest of the descent down to the halfway mark was simple.

From here, the going would get tough. Once he passed the small knoll in the middle, he was leaning out from the wall, extending his arms and relying on his grip strength to suspend him. Chancing a quick look over his shoulder, the creatures were disturbingly close – he could make out their sharp, bony jaws and long, curved noses. He noticed a section of the wall that jutted out from the rest and made his way over a couple cells, using it to hide part of his body from view. He continued his descent.

Then disaster struck.

As he took one foot off the slab, his other foot came loose on a section of smooth rock, and he jolted down, barely having the strength in his arms to catch himself. He hung on only by his hands, with his legs flailing in the air. He swung his legs in, catching one foot on the cell, but he couldn’t maintain his grip, and he slipped out again.

He hung there again, closing his eyes and pretending the burning pain in his fingers wasn’t there. Starting with a small swing, he went back and forth, gaining momentum until he let go with his hands, free-falling for a split second before landing on the base of the next cell and finding miniscule, crimped holds for his hands. He couldn’t help but let out a grunt of exertion, and he was close enough to the ground that heads started to turn in his direction. He heard a snarl like the monster version of ‘There, intruder!’ and he threw caution to the wind, virtually sliding down the rest of the cells until he was just above the tunnel leading the half-transformed victims into the cavern. The purple orb pulsated like it could feel his presence, and a sudden gust of cold blew through him. It felt like his blood slowed down in his veins, and his grip felt loose.

A roar crossed the caverns and a half-formed sheep, thrown by one of the lieutenants, splattered into the cell next to him. Thankfully, the cell wall between them protected him from the blood splatter, but he was now completely exposed, with thousands of monsters on his tail. He almost dropped into the tunnel, taking his chances with the creatures that already had their hands full, when he noticed a small crevice that led through to the other side, saving him from taking the risk. He took his sword off and tossed it in, pulling himself into the hole and dragging his body through on his elbows. Peskimir was still nowhere in sight, but if she wasn’t already transformed, she’d be here.

His head poked out at the end, and he pushed himself out, falling in a heap onto the dusty floor. He jumped to his feet just as two of his demon-like pursuers crashed to the dirt where he’d fallen.

Demon-like...demons..underkind. They’re fucking underkind! Rath’s Battle, all that mythical mumbo-jumbo! If I’m right, I’m really too deep here. Sorry Peskimir.

He drew his blade, the scabbard unclipping from his belt where it had barely latched on earlier. Fueled by fear, he slashed at an underkind in his path, taking off its arm. Hot blood oozed from the wound, and Heldrus charged on, keeping an eye out for Peskimir. He could hear the horrible sounds of hundreds of beasts pushing through the corridors in his pursuit, their gnashing teeth and startling roars amplified by the confines of the tunnels.

The line of underkind and their struggling captives was starting to dwindle, and Heldrus was encountering fewer slashing claws and mangled bites as he got further from the main cavern. At the end of one tunnel, the stone hemmed him into a tight walkway above gloomy depths, and two underkind stood at the end of the natural blockade. He ran in close to them, letting his sword bite into the thick hide of the first. It didn’t penetrate, and he was almost cast off the thin bridge when it retaliated, springing forward and twisting him off balance. One foot dangled over the edge as he regained balance, striking out with the point of his sword and driving it into the monster’s chest. This delay was stealing precious time, and the stampede he thought he’d left behind was catching up with him. He disposed of the second underkind with a deadly sideways slice, removing the creature’s head.

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He hopped over the mess of dead underkind and boiling blood, then ventured into the next room. Then he saw her.

Peskimir was hissing and fighting as two fully transformed underkind tried to hold onto her. They must have struggled to get her through every room to get here, explaining why she hadn’t been placed on the altar yet. Heldrus cut down the underkind closest to him, catching the attention of the remaining two.

“Peskimir, this is the last chance. I can’t let you become one of them. Do something! Please!”

She almost didn’t need to go through the altar – aside from the patchy remnants of her hair, she was already an underkind. Her eyes were sharp, and slitted, and they snapped onto Heldrus like an eagle onto a mouse. Like they’d formed a temporary truce, Peskimir and her fellow monster crept towards Heldrus, fanning out to come at him in two directions.

“I’m not going to let them change you, Peskimir. I’m sorry.”

He launched at her first, worried about the roars closing in behind him. It sounded like the entirety of the egg processing team was on his tail. Peskimir dodged out of the way, gripping onto the shallow curves of the wall. She pushed off, stretching her claws wide and aiming at his throat, but he blocked her path with his sword and stepped aside, lacerating a wound down her chest. The second underkind was creeping around behind him, awaiting an opportunity to take him out at the legs. It tried to dash in when Heldrus was off-balance, but he used the heavy sole of his boot to knock it back, then rushed in while it was recovering, delivering a downwards strike to its head. It screeched for a moment then fell to the ground, silent.

Peskimir remained furious, an unearthly wail bouncing around the cavern and hurting Heldrus’s head. He hadn’t had a drink of water since the light meal he was served at the Healing House, and his skin was cracking and peeling from the intense heat produced by the hordes of underkind. He slashed out at Peskimir, a lazy attempt, and she batted away the sword, sending it sailing past her shoulder and leaving Heldrus off balance. He recovered just as she leapt in for a death blow.

He had no choice but to take a hit. Her claws raked along his forearm and down the back of his hand, and he fell to the ground with Peskimir on top of him. He supported her weight from making contact with him by holding her up with the arm she’d already touched, and with the sword piercing through her belly. As she’d fallen onto him, he’d just snaked the blade in underneath her and slid it through her scales into the monster’s gut. The crazed look exited her eyes, and he heaved the dead underkind off himself before the purple blood flowed out of the wound. He stared at the body as the snarls behind him grew in volume.

“I’m sorry, Peskimir. I’m so, so sorry.”

Tears blinded him. The burning in his arm was nothing compared to the pain of killing his friend. He knew he would probably die escaping, or become an underkind due to the wound, but he didn’t care. Killing what she’d become had saved her.

He bolted through the tunnels, skidding through the labyrinth with only the lowering temperature to guide him out. He couldn’t concentrate, only picturing Peskimir’s scaled body on top of him as he’d taken her life. He hadn’t looked at her eyes. He didn’t want to see their expression before they faded.

She would’ve wanted you to escape. To tell someone what you’ve seen.

He pushed on with a new burst of energy, climbing the tunnels and crevices until he was once again in the section of the mountain that made his bones freeze and his teeth chatter. He saw the familiar entrance where the sheep had been pulled through, and he dove in, heaving himself through the gap so that his pursuers didn’t see him exit.

He ran to his horse, trying to mount with just his free arm. He fell once, then worked it out, sending his horse into a rapid descent. The sun had crept over the horizon while he’d been underground and was now sitting high enough to cast morning light over the valley. The rolling village had moved on – traveling somewhere over the hills and out of sight. He rode south-west until he felt his horse start to falter, then dismounted near a grove of beech trees. They were dry and dead from the harsh winter, and he gathered the broken branches that had fallen beneath the trees and started a small fire, letting it build in ferocity until he was dragging logs onto the fire too big to be lifted by his one good arm.

While the fire blazed, he sharpened his sword with a flat rock and a slow dribble of water from the canteen in his saddlebag. He wanted to make sure it had a razor-sharp edge – with what he had in mind, there wouldn’t be a second strike.

When he was satisfied with the deadly honed weapon, he took a deep breath and thrust the flat of the blade into the bed of red coals. He waited a couple minutes, then took the blackened, smoking blade out of the fire and steadied it above his arm. He could see the discolored veins creeping up his forearm, and he adjusted his sword to aim into the crook of his elbow. Already, the heat was curling the hairs on his arm. He lay down and stretched his arm out beside him, leaning over to give himself a clean cut.

Now.

With a defiant shout of fury, he brought the sword down on his arm, severing it from his body at the elbow. The pain was unbearable, and his vision darkened around the edges as the hot blade cauterized the wound.

Don’t go, hold on. You have to cauterize the wound.

The sizzle of burning flesh was foul and unsettling, but he held on, moving the blade around the stump until the cascades of blood stopped seeping through. He collapsed to the dirt and cried out in pain, rolling around next to the fire.

At some point, he passed out.