CHAPTER 7

Yannick watched as the priest worked, mouthing sounds and muttering words. While the priest translated, he cast a look at Audie. It was likely she would have pretended not to be injured if she was - he could sense that insecurity in her. In this case, she really did seem fine.

He shook his head. Why was he so surprised by her being uninjured? Had the frailties of age clouded his mind? Something about it did seem odd. It would be an unusual deterrent for a Tower. Had it injured someone, they could simply use Jeran’s prayers to heal them. The Tower, in some way, would know that.

The Tower would often present challenges - in such cases, the best-suited in the party would take it - but when it chose someone, it usually chose the least-suited for task. It probably had known about Jeran’s reluctance to spread his blood on the canvas, for example, and thus saved the Revivalist’s portrait for last. If what he had felt about the Revivalist magic was true, the blood of a priest would be of some higher value than the others.

In this case, the Tower had chosen the one most suited to the task. If anyone could take a fall within the party, it was Audie. She was young, fit and an experienced climber. Yannick or the weakened priest would have been severely injured by the fall. Jeran might even be left in a state unable to heal himself. He’d seen Towers target priests like that before, leaving them to painful fates whilst warriors went through relatively unscathed.

He shook the thoughts away. Even without mana burn eating away at one’s mind, trying to analyse the actions of the wildly mysterious Tower could drive one insane.

“Any joy?” he asked.

Jeran squinted at the text.

“This here is pointing right, I think. I can’t read that. The other side is nonsensical. It says ‘shadow’ and ‘plant’. They must lead to the same place, because underneath it says ‘draw tight’.”

“Draw tight?”

The priest shrugged. “I’m not sure what that means either.”

“I think we should take the left path,” said Audie.

“And why is that?” asked Yannick.

Audie shrugged. “Looks like it goes down, which is probably what we want if we’re gonna reach the dungeon in this place.”

There was some method to that. Even if the tower could change physical directions and distort space, he had little else to go on. He was well aware that time was pressing on. He suspected they’d been in here for much longer than the few hours it felt like - days, perhaps even weeks.

They took the left path. This time, Yannick walked at the front with Jeran. Whatever this test was about, it didn’t seem to be conflict related. In any case, Audie seemed to want to walk with Virgil. He could hear her endless chatter, and the Dusken Knight’s awkward, muffled responses.

As they went deeper, the tunnels began to change shape. They became rounder and smoother, taking on a pale, almost blue tone. They reminded him of intestines.

Jeran stopped, his eyes fixed on a small section of the wall.

“What’s going on?” asked Yannick.

The priest cocked his head. “I thought… no, nevermind.”

“Tell me what you saw,” said Yannick.

“It looked like… It looked like the wall moved.” He reached out, as if to touch it, then hesitated and pulled his good hand back to himself. “I’m sure it’s just stone, but…”

“Nothing is impossible in this place,” said Yannick. “Caution is the order of the day.”

Virgil and Audie had reached them now. The Knight was staring at the walls, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Something odd is afoot here. Let’s keep moving, we can’t be far from the dungeons now,” said Yannick.

Virgil nodded, but her gaze remained on the walls. “Very strange… like it is living.”

“Some kind of dakora. It’s a living moss that can manipulate stone,” said Yannick.

The priest brightened considerably. “I’ve read about these. They’re believed to be extinct.”

Yannick shook his head. “You could write a library about stuff that isn’t really extinct. Let’s go.”

The Dusken Knight took no notice of his orders. She reached out with her gauntleted hand. As the bare flesh of her palm touched the eerie white wall, a hissing filled the tunnel.

To Yannick’s amazement, Audie began to flicker and fade.

“Audie!” cried Yannick.

The shape of Audie reformed itself as a plain older woman in a habit.

“You vile creature,” she hissed. She raised a wrinkled figure and pointed it at Virgil. “You bring shame… shame upon us with your desires.”

The Virgil stared at the apparition, horrified.

Another shade appeared next to the old woman. It took the form of an enormous man with pale blue eyes and a pate like old leather. “It’s a good thing I threw you out,” he said, an evil grin spreading across his features. “I knew you were an abomination.”

Before another shade could appear, Yannick had dashed forwards and grabbed Virgil by her wrist.

“These are not real, these are not real!” But she did not see him, her eyes instead darting between the rapidly appearing shades of her past. He struck a weak blow across her panicked face and the blue eyes set on him. “Look at me, Virgil. These things cannot hurt you.”

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“What’s happening?” asked Jeran.

“Don’t touch the walls with your flesh. It’s a projection,” Yannick said.

He turned back to the terrified warrior.

“None of this is real. I am real, and I need you here. I need a knight. Can you do that for me?” he asked, his voice as gentle as speaking to a child.

Virgil nodded, mountains of fear behind her eyes.

“We must go. Quickly now, it cannot be far. Jeran! Go ahead.”

The shades began to shout. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her along, the shades rippling as they went through them. She gripped his hand so hard it hurt, as if she were hanging on for life.

More and more of the shades began to appear in the tunnel, each adding its own cruel comments.

“No man would ever--”

“Disgusting sinner!”

“Aberration! Witch! Abomination!”

“No decent woman should--”

“Should’ve fed you to the dogs!”

“Ignore them!” cried Yannick as he pulled her further down the tunnel. Screaming, shouting figures filled every space, filling the air with a cacophony of bilious invective. The slivers of wall that were visible were pulsating now. “Keep your eyes closed if you have to.”

He cast a glance ahead. The tunnel curled. He dragged the now-weeping Knight with him.

“Jeran?”

“I am here, master,” said the priest.

His voice came from behind the shade of a sickly-looking woman holding open her robe. “Back for more, sweetheart?”

Yannick pushed on through, dragging Virgil past the shades.

“I’ve found the door,” continued Jeran. “It’s just beyond.”

“Lead on!”

“Predator,” hissed a familiar voice. Yannick turned before he could stop himself. Audie stood, a nasty smirk on her face. “You wanted to corrupt me, didn’t you?”

The Dusken Knight shook her head, sobbing with tears.

“Don’t stop!” shouted Yannick, but it was too late. The Dusken Knight had wrenched free of his grasp and was pulling both arms overhead. The force of it threw Yannick off balance and he found himself tumbling to the ground. He lifted a bare hand out to arrest his fall and felt it press against the fleshy, white wall.

The spectres vanished at once.

“They’re gone,” whispered Jeran.

With eyes wide, Yannick lifted his head. He let out a whimper of panic as the figure materialised in the tunnel.

He was a thin, rangey man. He was younger than he should have been, but not as young as he had been when they met. His curly hair, full and thick and roughly pushed back, was already streaked with grey. The beard was cropped but on the borderline of ragged, as it always had been. The eyes were bright and intelligent, the features of his face lit up by a wolfish grin.

“Hello, lover.”

The words cut through Yannick like a knife. His knees trembled wildly as he stood up.

“Go!” he gasped. “We must--”

“It should have been you.” The hissing hung just beneath the familiar voice. “You should have died, and I should be the one having adventures. Didn’t you always tell me that death was the greatest adventure of all? You lying coward.”

He felt himself falter before the strength of Virgil was under him, holding him up.

“You made me give up my life! The only thing I ever enjoyed, and instead you made me live on that fucking farm!”

“We need to keep going,” whispered Virgil, hefting him as if he were no more than a child. She half-carried, half-supported him as they made their way around the final bend, Ricard screaming poison in their ears as they did so. Yannick could see the door now. It was a heavy, bolted thing of rusted iron.

“I’m glad I’m here! I get to see you die doing the thing you hated--”

The priest ran just ahead of them, reaching out for the latch. He pushed it and it fell open, as light as paper. Together, they bowled into the darkness on the other side and slammed the door shut behind them. It was silent in here, but Ricard’s words rang in Yannick’s ears.

“What on earth was that?” asked Jeran.

Yannick walked further into the room. Candelabra hung low from the ceiling. Beyond the small platform they stood on, the light shone onto a still body of water.

“A particularly terrible kind of living moss. Through contact with the skin, it can take your worst memories and twist them,” said Yannick.

“Audie--” began Virgil.

Yannick shook his head. “That wasn’t her. When she fell through the floor, the thing that came from above wasn’t her. It was another shade.”

Virgil shivered. “Where is she?” Her voice was shaken.

“I don’t know.” He looked around. “There’s a boat.” It was small, perhaps wide enough for two people. There were no oars - it would be self-powered. He looked around the little platform.

They were close to the end now. Yannick could sense it: they were closing in on the Tower’s prize. He didn’t doubt it still had a few tricks up its sleeve.

“What happened to Audie?” asked Virgil. “Is she still alive?” The panic was contained, but he could hear it in her voice.

“Is this a mechanism?” said Yannick. It was a small box, welded into the floor. On the top was a metal wheel, rusted from time and disuse.

“A winch of some kind, master,” said Jeran.

Yannick grabbed hold of the wheel and tried to turn it. Given all his might, it did not budge. He let go, breathing heavily.

The Dusken Knight took a few massive steps towards the box and leant down, gripping the wheel with enormous fists. She grunted as she turned it. There was an enormous grinding sound from below, followed by a splashing sound.

The boat was moving jerkily across the water, inch by inch.

“Stop,” he said. The Dusken Knight stopped turning the wheel and stood immobile. “I should get in the boat before you go any further.”

“Master, please,” said Jeran. “You don’t need to--”

“You can’t go,” Yannick said simply. He gestured to the man’s missing hand, and a pained expression crossed the priest’s face. “We don’t know what’s going to be on the other side of that water.”

Virgil had stepped forward.

“Perhaps the Dusken Knight, master,” offered Jeran.

Yannick shook his head. “We need someone to operate that winch - and back too. I’m not strong enough, and you can’t do it with one hand. It has to be me.”

“I can come with you,” said Jeran. “The boat is big enough for two.”

“I’ll need to bring back the prince.”

The time for debate was over. Yannick stepped to the edge of the platform and looked into the boat. It was a shallow, narrow thing, separating him from the dark water outside. He didn’t bother to look in the water: there would be nothing good in there. Going in would probably kill him, in one way or another.

“I think Audie is dead,” he said, in more level tones than he felt. He kept his gaze on the little boat, unable to meet Virgil’s eyes. “We cannot stray from our mission, and we would be unlikely to find her. I am sorry.”

He stepped in and lowered himself down.

“I’ll release a flare from the other side when I want you to bring me back. Understood?”

The Dusken Knight nodded. Neither of them could see the other side, but they had to assume there was an end to it.

“Let’s begin.”

The Dusken Knight began to turn the wheel. The priest fiddled with the hem of his robes. The enormous grinding noise started up again as the boat began to move across the dark water.