​​​​28 Ensnared by Darkness

PALE LICHEN AND black moss covered the moist walls of the limestone cave. Threadfin found a distracted comfort in the millipedes and spiders scrambling over the rock.

Until he got a closer look. Spiders with sixteen legs, wait, ugh, one there has seventeen. An extra leg trailed behind it, perhaps to fool predators, which got him worrying over something else lurking in the shadows. There’d better not be any snakes in here. Like all reasonable-minded folk, living or undead, he hated snakes.

Vilt and Nevet had lit a fire near the entrance in a hollow. They’d used their iron fire striker and quartz. Pole was now using the striker to sharpen his dagger. The Darken sat on a rocky ledge by the fire, with the kobold opposite. Nevet and Vilt had gone outside on watch. Grudge was keeping them company.

Lorn and Threadfin had chosen to sit further in, as far from Roper as possible. The kobold had been nothing but miserable, not to mention vicious.

Sat to Threadfin’s right on a narrow ledge, Lorn used a second striker to shave pieces off a long stick. She was making a crude spear, ignoring her former captor.

Roper grumbled, as he laid flat stones on the fire. Spouts of flame licked their edges. He blew on the embers, increasing the heat, while adding twigs and moss. He produced pieces of raw meat wrapped in leaves from another pouch. Soon, the meat was sizzling. A roasting smell mingled with smoke filled the cave. The firelight threw shapes across the rocks. There were edible creatures in the Styx, small scaly things, tasteless. Lorn had shown them what to catch and how. She seemed to know a lot about a place right out of myth.

For two days they’d struggled across the alien landscape. They’d huddled together the previous night within an old ruin, listening to the eerie sounds of the darkness. Roper had sat alone.

Twice, Pole had suggested they get rid of the kobold, but Threadfin had refused to consider it. ‘I was a thief once,’ he’d told him. ‘But, not a murderer.’ Is that true, he had wondered afterwards. How many lives have I taken to feed my magic?

‘Wasn’t suggestin’ we throttle him,’ Pole had muttered where they’d sat out of earshot of the others, ‘although, it’s not such a terrible idea.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘We could lose him or something. He’ll murder you and Lorn both if he don’t get what he’s after.’

Presently, Threadfin shook his head as he recalled the conversation. Pole was right about the kobold. Roper was a creature he didn’t know. Insanity flitted across the kobold’s face whenever he looked at Lorn. Leaving him to die alone, however, was a type of murder. He couldn’t do it.

There was a darkness inside Threadfin. He’d seen its face in the mirror, in rippling water, staring back. At times, he thought he heard its laughter. A little earlier, he’d heard it say something too. Great, I’m going nuts, he thought, chewing on a piece of half cooked meat, myself, and Roper both.

Evil resided in his half-soul, but he refused to give it an inch. He believed if he did, there would be no turning back. He never discussed it with anyone, not certain they’d understand.

‘All dead,’ said Roper, bald head in his twig-like hands. ‘Trint, Weedy, Temper, all of them. They looked to me, and now they’re dead.’ He raised his head, face filled with anger as he stared at Lorn. ‘Where are you leading us?’

‘Quit badgering her,’ Vilt snapped, as she entered the cave. She chose a spot near the fire between Threadfin and Lorn. She gave Roper a kick as she passed by. ‘I’ve had enough of your gob, shark-tooth. Next time you pull a knife on me, I’ll gut you good, and laugh doin’ it too. See if I don’t.’

Roper glared over at the sergeant, but didn’t retaliate. Their spat had occurred the previous day. In the interest of objectivity, Vilt had started it. She did enjoy baiting him.

Pole scratched his nose as he rummaged in a leather bag. He’d finished sharpening his weapons. He withdrew a chipped clay bowl, and placed it on the cave floor. They’d discovered shattered pottery in several ruined sites. Another half bowl containing hardened fat he placed at the edge of the fire. Within minutes, he was easing a blade across his jaw.

Threadfin stared at him in disbelief.

Pole noticed, and paused. ‘What?’

The viral looked away, hiding a grin. What would I do without him? he wondered. Podral had a way of making the abnormal seem, unimportant. I mean, look where we are, the Grim’s own backyard, and he finds the time for a shave? ‘Nothing,’ was all he said.

Pole began to hum, scraping the blade off on the bowl’s edge. Roper watched him with hatred in those pale orbs.

‘Never did tell me what happened, Todder?’ said the kobold still watching the Darken. ‘Not everyday somebody gets a makeover like yours. And since when do you eat meat? I heard of some nasty things happening to undeaders who ate flesh.’

‘I don’t think you’re in a position to point fingers.’

Roper turned his head and squinted at him across the fire. ‘You look more a beast than ever.’

‘You’re kidding right?’

‘I bet those horns drive the dead bitches wild.’

‘Huh,’ muttered Threadfin, ‘bet the same with those bald kobolds. I mean, what’s with those teeth? Like it rough? They like to nibble on those pointy ears of yours?’

Pole almost choked as he wiped his face with a rag.

Roper gestured at Lorn. ‘This stinking harlot, Todder, hasn’t spoken three words.’

‘Watch what you say,’ Threadfin said in a low tone. ‘I remember you used to call me, Fin, once. With respect too. If you can’t say anything good, then shut it.’

‘Used to call you a lot of things. Turns out, they were all true. My patience isn’t limitless.’

‘Neither is mine, bug-eyes,’ Vilt snapped. She used her dagger’s tip to take a piece of meat from the hot stones. The greencloak had taken to Lorn, and had become protective of her.

‘You don’t know how close you’ve hit,’ Lorn said to the kobold, breaking her silence, ‘and yet you couldn’t be further away.’

‘See?’ he said, pointing, ‘even when she does speak, she makes no Grim-blinded sense.’

Threadfin grinned. At least someone else was having difficulty with riddles.

‘Do not use that name in this place,’ Lorn said. ‘You invite his attention.’

‘Is that meant to scare me?’

‘Is it actually a thing?’ asked Vilt, eyebrows raised. ‘I heard stories like those when I was a child. Never thought they might be true.’

‘I’d rather not tempt fate,’ said Lorn, and the soldier nodded in sage agreement.

‘I gave you a warning,’ said Pole in a calm voice to the kobold, ‘to leave her alone. Threadfin and Vilt have both warned you too. You’re no longer in charge.’

‘To the pit of Hell’s Teeth with you, thief,’ Roper shot back at the Darken. ‘Think I can’t take you? You know, I’d watch the undead one you’re so taken with. Treacherous bastards those Plagueborners, and I should know.’

‘Enough of this,’ Threadfin snapped. ‘We’ve all had it with your whining.’

‘Or what,’ asked the kobold, rising with a knife in each hand. Threadfin glanced at Lorn and the others. Hadn’t Pole taken those off him after the last time? He was certain he had. ‘She owes me,’ snarled Roper. ‘We had an agreement, and I’m not waiting to collect.’

Vilt was on her feet, gripping the hilt of her sword, while Pole had his eyes locked on the kobold.

Roper’s speed took them by surprise. He leapt past the fire with a kick to the Darken’s chest, knocking him back. The pommel of a knife to Vilt’s forehead stunned her before she could draw her blade.

The mage leapt to intercept, catching Roper off-balance, and driving him into the cave wall. Roper lost one knife, and they wrestled for control of the other. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ shouted Threadfin. ‘Kill her and you’ll never get it.’

The kobold snarled in his face. ‘I can make her talk. Why won’t she tell me!’

Pole, who was back on his feet, helped restrain the kobold and relieved him of the other knife.

‘Because it’s never simple,’ Lorn answered in a quiet voice. She hadn’t moved, but she held her makeshift spear ready. She might have skewered him had Threadfin not intervened. He wondered if it might not have been best. ‘Because, none of you understand what’s happening.’

All three turned to face her. Threadfin shoved Roper back to his spot by the fire. Pole was coughing, rubbing his chest. Vilt remained unconscious. Grudge and Nevet had entered, weapons drawn. The scout was at Vilt’s side in moments, stroking her hair.

‘If you tell us more,’ said Threadfin, ‘it might calm things a bit.’

‘I doubt it would matter.’ She was staring into the flames. The fire cast waving patterns on the glistening rock. She sighed. ‘Aside from Hell’s Teeth itself, there are four fortresses in the Styx. Shraeds hold three. A fourth is the lair of the Grim’s servant. It is known as, Balax. You should avoid it at all costs. All you need know is I’m heading towards a city. It’s not far from here, but it is closer to Balax than I’d like.’

‘Is that where you got it hidden?’ asked Roper. ‘It had better be. Why didn’t you say all this before?’

She threw him a sharp look. ‘I don’t trust you. I don’t like you, and I don’t like answering demands. Why should I tell you anything? You hunted me and held me captive twice! I owe you, nothing.’

The kobold hissed.

‘You mentioned,’ whispered Threadfin to her, trying to prevent another fight, ‘the Grim’s servant?’

‘An old acquaintance.’

Threadfin felt a throbbing in his neck at the base of his skull. It ebbed down his shoulders in waves. A deep pain welled in his stomach. His power, while practically useless, was turning on him. He could feel it but couldn’t understand why. Maybe it wasn’t his magic, but the evil within. Darkness had descended outside and icy rain fell in hissing sheets.

Lorn sighed, stretching her leather-clad legs. ‘Well, undeader, you still glad you came along?’

‘Rude you know, leaving like you did without saying goodbye.’

Lorn laughed, the sound genuine. She moved closer to him, and gave him a playful nudge. Threadfin felt shock at the warmth flooding him. He stared, examining her as though she was a piece of parchment written in an ancient tongue. He thought perhaps he was on the point of deciphering her.

‘I don’t want to sound repetitive,’ she said in a quiet voice, ‘but you shouldn’t have come. I’m glad you’re here, though, for what it’s worth.’

Pole glanced at the entrance, and snapped at Grudge and Nevet. ‘Aren’t you two meant to be outside—’

Blobs of darkness had gathered behind the soldiers. It’s your imagination, Threadfin thought, but the darkness remained. Someone whispered his name. Inside his skull. Shadows crept across moist walls, dancing in the firelight, stretching towards him. He noticed his own growing in response.

‘Get back,’ he cried at Grudge and Nevet, who had turned to see what everyone else was looking at.

The darkness at the entrance had formed into a cloak, shrouding arms, and legs with desiccated skin. The arms snatched Nevet, dragging him into the shadow’s embrace. It ensnared Grudge and the kobold too, and with snaking tentacle-like arms, sought out Threadfin.

Pole stumbled over the fire, kicking sparks into the air as he threw himself into the shadow’s path. He swiped at it with his sword, and dodged its attacks. Whenever the shadow struck the blade of his dagger or sword, it flinched.

Threadfin yelled at his Darken and tried to reach him, but Lorn had grabbed hold of him. She held him in a tight grip, one arm about his neck. ‘No,’ she said in his ear. ‘You cannot fight it. It’s you and me it’s after, not them. Whatever about me, if it gets you, it’s all over. Damn it, Fin, everything will cease to exist if it gets you. You are the Key.’

It doesn’t matter, he thought. After it kills them, it will get us anyway. Podral, the brave idiot, battling shadows like some hero out of history. ‘Pod, no!’ he yelled.

Grudge was hanging on to a screaming Nevet, as the winged shadows billowed in the entrance. Ethereal tendrils had entwined their arms and legs, but it appeared to have forgotten them. Its focus was on Threadfin and Lorn, and the Darken in its way.

By this time, Vilt had come round. Despite hoarse warnings, the soldier got up, and stumbled into the fray. She grabbed hold of Grudge, attempting to pull him out.

Winged talons ripped at Nevet in a spray of blood. They then tore off Roper’s limbs, before swallowing them in blackness.

An inhuman shriek filled the cave. A wind now howled outside, as the shadows appeared to engage in a conflict with it. The wind sought to disperse them, to break the shadows apart. Seconds later, it was over.

Threadfin fell to his knees, her arms around him. Lorn no longer held him back, just held. He felt the wetness of her tears on his neck. His friend gone. All of them. Dead.

‘There was nothing you could have done,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘You would only have joined them. Maybe some survived. That wind ... something or someone was trying to help us. Cling to hope, Fin. Always to hope.’

‘Pod,’ he whispered, ‘you stupid old bastard.’

A mournful wind gave answer.