They both went for the door, then Kemp awkwardly backed off to let Nikha go first. She started down the hall with bayonet fixed, boots scraping on the rough stone floor. Her eyes darted about, carefully picking up every detail, watching for danger-

“What do you think this place is?” said Kemp from beside her, making her jump. “Some kind of dungeon?”

“That’s what it looks like. I went through some kind of castle earlier, so it would make sense.” Nikha turned forward and kept walking, pulling ahead of him.

“Should we check any of the other doors?” He was right next to her again.

“No. What are you doing?” she asked, frowning.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused.

“I’m leading the way. You stay behind me.” It was pretty simple. Movement through hostile territory was done in a column, not abreast. Her books were clear on that.

Instead of listening, Kemp frowned back. “Why? Why’s anyone have to lead the way?”

My, this is frustrating. “Because,” Nikha answered with forced patience, “it’s a noble’s duty to protect the peasantry. So let me protect you, hmm?”

Kemp crossed his arms. Evidently this was not a satisfactory explanation. “Well, it’s also a man’s duty to protect women, right? So I should lead.”

“Ridiculous,” snapped Nikha. “I’ve got the gun. I do the protecting. It should be obvious.”

He slumped a little. “Well…you aren’t wrong. But can’t you ‘protect’ me while I’m standing next to you?”

Nikha shook her head. “Fine. We don’t have time for this. Stand where you like. And don’t open any of those doors!” Kemp jerked his hand away from the bar of the closest one, giving her a bit of a hurt look. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so rude. But whatever’s in there isn’t worth the risk.”

He nodded back at her. “Suppose you know the territory better’n I do.”

“Which isn’t saying much,” she muttered. They moved on down the hall. The cell doors soon stopped appearing, leaving the walls featureless except for the gaslamps. It was arrow-straight and extended farther than she could make out. She noticed a few missing blocks on the walls and floor, complete with solid blackness. She warned Kemp not to trip, and he poked at the gaps in astonishment before catching up.

“So this is your house’s basement, you said? And we want to come out of it on the west side?” Kemp asked after a few minutes.

Nikha nodded. “This isn’t supposed to be part of my house at all, but yes.”

“Big house,” he muttered, sounding impressed.

“This is way bigger than it’s supposed to be.” She gave him a glance. “What’s your house like?”

“Oh, it’s a lot smaller than this one,” said Kemp, but he was smiling. “It’s one floor, made of wood. There’s a kitchen and two bedrooms and a closet, and then it’s connected to Pa’s workshop.”

Nikha frowned. It sounded tiny indeed. “What about a washroom?”

“We put the tub out by the forge when it’s time for a bath. Easier to heat the water that way.”

Nikha glanced away. “No, I mean the, um…facilities.”

Kemp saw her expression and laughed. “There’s a privy, of course. Outside. Don’t you have one?”

Nikha blanched. She couldn’t imagine how he stayed so affable, living in privation as he did. “No. Indoor plumbing.” What kind of conversation is this?

“Hm? How’s that work?”

“Water washes it away down a pipe, of course!” Was he trying to embarrass her? “You have to have heard of that before.”

His head shook. “Don’t think so. Nobody I know’s got anything like that. I’d like to see it for myself, in fact-“

“Maybe you’ll get the chance when we get out of this stupid basement.” Nikha picked up her pace. Soon she saw the end of the tunnel, an opening silhouetted in gas flame. Upon reaching it, the pair found that they’d come out onto a railless landing at the top of a flight of stairs. It was set high on the wall of a large rectangular room. The cellar was perhaps thirty feet to a side, lit by a sputtering gas chandelier. There was a broad, arched opening in the wall opposite them. Walls and ceiling were the same gray blocks, but the floor was a tile mosaic. Nikha squinted to make out the pattern. “Looks like a magic stave,” she remarked. It was one of the complex, cross-like diagrams some people drew above doors and inside hats to ward off spirits and the like. Papa said they were mostly superstitious. She found herself wondering at that ‘mostly,’ now.

“It’s a rozarriklos. Pulls in evil and melts it away,” said Kemp.

“That’s a kind of stave?”

He nodded, starting down the stairs. “Yep. We call ‘em hex signs, though. Ma carved one over all our beds, to keep away nightmares.”

Nikha hurried to follow. “Does it work?”

“Maybe?” he said with a shrug. “I have bad dreams, sometimes, but never any really scary ones. Depends what you call a nightmare.”

“This one hasn’t done much,” grumbled Nikha.

The two of them reached the cellar floor, Nikha’s boots clacking and Kemp’s moccasins making barely a whisper. Their steps echoed in the cavernous room, which was empty except for a few huge urns in one corner. Kemp went over and looked at them, the clay vessels nearly as tall as he was. “What’s in these, do you think? Wine? Cooking oil?”

“Does it matter? We couldn’t move one of those if there were five of us.” She’d already made a beeline for the arched exit hall. It was far less claustrophobic than the one they’d come out of, perhaps ten feet high and broad and lit with rusty phlogiston arc-lamps hanging from its ceiling.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“I was just wondering,” said Kemp, catching up. “I’ve never been someplace like this before, is all.”

“Neither have I, but that doesn’t mean I like it. It’s dark and cold and I feel like a rat stuck between walls.” Kemp stifled a laugh and she glanced over at him. “What now?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just…you’re kind of sour, aren’t you?”

Nikha glared at him sourly. “Am not!” It just made him snort and grin again. “No, really! Watch. Oh, wow! This sure is a great basement! Look at…look at that tile! Isn’t that soooo interesting!” Kemp really did laugh this time. “And these pretty bricks in the walls. Amazing!” She looked to the side and saw Kemp was doubled over, wheezing. It was silly, but it still made her kind of happy. Nikha was used to people having the opposite reaction around her, so she kept going. “So is this cold, damp breeze that smells like a dead wet dog! Or maybe a wet dead dog!” Now she was laughing too. This isn’t funny at all, she thought, but somehow it just was. Maybe they’d both needed a way to let off some of the ever-present tension.

“Helloooooo? Is somebody theeeeeeeeere?” A woman called out from up ahead, where there were a few lights out. Both of them went silent immediately, and Nikha snapped up her gun. The call had come from close by, and rough as it was it hadn’t seemed like a cry for help.

“Don’t play games with me, loves. I know you’re there.” Her voice was hoarse and cracked. “Won’t you come and introduce yourselves?” Its tone was almost teasing now, with an undercurrent of something dark and hungry. Nikha’s instincts were screaming Do not trust! and she wasn’t going to gainsay them. Okay, she thought. Kemp can stay here while I sneak forward and-

“Hello? Listen, we’re just trying to-“ Nikha shot over and clapped a hand over Kemp’s mouth.

“Shut up!” she hissed. “Quiet!” But it was too late.

“Thank you so much, dear. I really do appreciate obedient children.” The voice came from closer now, and Nikha thought she heard footsteps.

“Sorry,” Kemp whispered when she moved her hand. “I should have thought-“

“It doesn’t matter,” said Nikha with a shake of her head. They wouldn’t have been able to hide in a well-lit hallway anyway-and truthfully she’d rather confront whoever or whatever this was than backtrack and draw things out.

“Maybe she’ll be friendly?” ventured Kemp, but he didn’t sound hopeful.

Nikha cocked her gun in reply, getting down on one knee. The footsteps grew louder, and a figure emerged from the darkness ahead.

She was tall, for a woman, and wore the tattered, stained remains of what once was a beautiful cream-colored gown paneled with lace. She had the deep tan and high cheekbones of distant Algiz, and while she looked on the older side it was obvious she was still a beautiful woman- or would be, were it not for the runny makeup and horribly bloodshot eyes. Her hands were held behind her back, and when she smiled at them bleeding gums made the expression ghastly.

“Ah, yes. There you are,” the woman husked. “Such a healthy young man-and could this be the young lady of the house?” Nikha tensed. How does she know me? She’d never met this woman before. “I’ve heard about you, though your father was so very determined to keep you under wraps.” She tossed her head to get a lank strand of hair out of her face.

“You’ve seen Papa?” blurted Nikha. All the threats and questions she’d been about to deliver fled her mind.

The ragged woman sneered wider. “Oh, yes, yes, yes. We all made his acquaintance last night, may he not live to regret it. I expect he’s been caught by now. The Lodge doesn’t suffer betrayal lightly.”

Nikha’s mind whirled with questions, but only a couple things really mattered: so far as this sinister woman knew, Papa was alive and had yet to be caught- whatever that meant.

“But enough of that. Why don’t you come here and let me get a better look at you?” The woman took a few steps towards them.

“Stop!” Nikha raised her gun. “Don’t come any closer. And show me your hands!” Kemp was fidgeting nervously in her peripheral vision, but Nikha kept her focus on her target.

“I only want to see you, but His majesty has worn through my eyes. So please just…come here…” There was something awful and desperate in her voice now. She leaned toward them, hands still awkwardly behind her.

“If you don’t stop I’ll shoot you!” shouted Nikha. “Last warning!” She’d do it, too, though she didn’t want to. She didn’t trust that this was a human, let alone that her intentions were good.

“Shoot…me?” She said in a low voice. “Oh, to be so young and naive again. You don’t understand who you’re dealing with, you foolish little slattern. Kill me? With a gun? Ridiculous!” The last word came out in a raw shout, making Nikha jump and pull the gun harder into her shoulder.

“Who lived, when the others died? Me! The others’ souls were burnt away, just to make room for me! My sight was seared, but in return I was blessed!” She suddenly raised her hands before her, and Nikha was shocked to see they didn’t match the rest of her. They were fish-belly white up to the elbows, standing starkly out from her bronze-colored arms. Her fingers were far too long, and they bent in a weird boneless way that made Nikha feel sick. The madwoman pointed them at her like she was a wizard casting a spell, and before Nikha could take aim again something white was blurring at her-

“Nikha!” Suddenly she was bumped aside, looking at Kemp’s back as his shout turned into a cry of pain. She nearly tripped over herself as she shot to her feet, looking around him. Her face twisted when she saw what was happening. The madwoman’s fingers had stretched the distance between her and Kemp, and they were stuck to his chest. Most had caught his shirt, but a few were above his collar and latched onto his skin. To Nikha’s revulsion, they were already pink near the ends. They’re sucking his blood. My fault! This only happened because she hadn’t shot the freak earlier. Kemp took the blow meant for her. All this Nikha took in in a split second, and without hesitation she snapped her rifle up with a self-disgusted snarl on her face.

“Are you deaf, girl?” called the formerly human thing. “I am blessed. Bullets will do you no-“ The gun hacked out noise and flame, and the top half of the woman’s head disappeared. She toppled like a cow struck by lightning, her fingers pulling back in as if spring-loaded. Kemp yelped as they disengaged from his skin, falling onto his rear.

Nikha didn’t even reload before rushing to him. “Are you okay- I’m sorry- How bad is it- my fault!” She stuttered. Someone was hurt because she’d made a mistake. What a terrible feeling. If only it had been her!

Kemp craned his neck, trying to look down at his chest. there were four ring-shaped cuts below his neck, oozing blood. “Well-ouch!-it’s not the best thing I’ve ever felt, but I think I’ll live.” Nikha sighed in relief. “What about her, though?” He jerked his head at the woman. Nikha narrowed her eyes at the body, and if looks could embalm it would have been cremated then and there.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll make sure,” she told Kemp. Quickly, she shucked off her pack and pulled out a rag. She found a side that looked clean, folded it and handed it to him. “Hold that over the cuts as hard as you can. I’ll patch you up better once I make sure that bitch is dead.” He looked suitably impressed at her vocabulary and did as instructed.

Nikha reloaded and put a round into the corpse as close to the heart as she could. Then four more, varying the placement a little. When she was done they were both coughing on smoke with stinging eyes.

“That ought to do it, right? Martyrs’ bones, that’s loud.” Kemp tapped an ear with the heel of his hand.

“You’ll get used to it.” She crouched next to him and rummaged around in her pack for bandages and alcohol. Kemp watched nervously as she poured the high-proof liquor onto a pad of gauze. “This is going to sting,” she warned him.

“Why bother with it anyway?”

“Alcohol keeps wounds clean. They proved it in the last war. If we were in a hospital and not this stupid endless basement we could boil the bandages too.”

“Uh, if you say ssssow!” He hissed as she pressed the soaked gauze to one of his cuts. “You weren’t lying! I’m surprised you brought all this stuff.”

“What, the bandages? My father says that if you know how to hurt people you should know how to heal them, too. Every soldier should know some basic medicine.” Nikha remembered how bored she’d been paging through the medical texts and first-aid manuals Papa had given her to read, and felt a little embarrassed. The knowledge was coming in handy now.

“That’s one way to look at it, I guess-“

“Martyrs!” Nikha clapped a hand to her forehead. “I should have had you take off your shirt first. We can’t wrap the bandages like this.”

Kemp’s eyes were wide. “Nikha-“

“I’m sorry, I made a mistake. But-“

“Behind you!”