42 – A Bad Feeling

  Ward watched True walk over to observe Haley’s efforts with the gate but didn’t immediately follow. He turned back to the body of the demonic guardian he’d killed and grasped the back of his collar, hoisting him up until his head lolled to the side. Ward studied his face; he certainly seemed dead. What about the thing that had been inside him, though? Ward wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d had a demon in him, but his eyes and behavior had certainly been unnatural.

  He didn’t have to wonder long. Grace appeared below, floating in the water at the end of the jetty, her head barely visible. She whispered, “The passenger is gone. His aetheric form slipped through the veil when he died. Sadly, it consumed this man’s anima; he’s doomed.”

  “You could see all that?” Ward whispered, setting the corpse back down.

  “I glimpsed the rip in the veil and surmised the rest. These aren’t kind beings—oh!” Suddenly, she was gone, and footsteps sounded behind Ward in the gravel. He stood calmly and turned. It was True again, but she didn’t seem to have heard Grace’s whispers.

  “Something going on with the corpse?”

  Ward shook his head, brushing his hands off before reclaiming his bloodied sword. “I just wanted to make sure he was dead. These things are tricky.”

  “Gate’s open. Your little friend’s handy with a lock.”

  “She’s good at a lot of things.” Ward brushed past True, a little annoyed that she kept watching his every move. “Let’s get on with this.” Approaching the gate, he saw a shadowy figure disappearing into the tunnel, and he recognized Lazlo's lanky, slinking steps. Ward frowned, again irritated, because he was sure Lazlo couldn’t see in the dark as well as he could. He should be the one scouting ahead. Haley stood just inside the gate, waiting for him, and Lisa stood back with her cousin’s house soldiers.

  “Let Laz get a bit of distance, then we can start creeping in after him. Keep your lights low,” True commanded as she approached. Ward turned, scowling at the two hooded lanterns Lisa’s men were sparking to life.

  “What’s wrong?” Haley asked, peering up at him.

  “Nothing.” He nodded toward True, supervising everyone. “You know,” he whispered.

  “Easy, Ward,” she whispered back, turning so her face wasn’t exposed to anyone else’s scrutiny. “Vainglory,” she whispered, reminding Ward of the many cautionary tales told to the people seeking greatness in the system. His scowl deepened, but he nodded. She was right; there wasn’t any reason to be irritated that True was taking on a leadership role. It was her job, after all. There’d be plenty of “glory” to go around as they progressed.

  As the lanterns flared to life and the men lowered the hoods so just a narrow band of light shone out, True nodded to Ward. “After you, big fella.”

  Gripping his sword hilt until the leather creaked, Ward grunted and started into the stony tunnel. Keene had told them that the passage traversed a good distance, passing through a natural cave on two different occasions before it came to a stone stairway that would lead up to Dame Ruby’s cellars. With that in mind and having encountered guards on the exterior, Ward wouldn’t be surprised to run into more opposition on the way through the underground. He hoped Lazlo was as sneaky in the dark underground as he was in the forest.

  The tunnel floor was moist, and he had to concentrate to keep from kicking loose bits of rock and shale as he crept forward. Still, his lycan night vision served him well, and he quietly padded forward with Haley close behind. The others moved more slowly, and soon, the glow of their mostly-shuttered lanterns fell away behind. The tunnel maintained a relatively uniform size, and Ward could see ancient chisel marks on the walls where it had been widened or, perhaps, dug through solid stone.

  At one point, they passed a small cave where moldy wooden crates were stacked against one wall, but there wasn’t any sign that Lazlo had stopped, so they continued past the spot. After another thirty feet or so, the tunnel began to veer to the left and climb gently upward. Ward continued, but then he caught a deep whiff of fear-scented air, and as his hackles rose and a low rumble started in his chest, he reached back, holding out a hand in front of Haley. “Wait,” he growled.

  He stalked forward, winding around the corner, listening and sniffing, and soon, he caught the coppery scent of fresh blood and the unmistakable stomach-churning, sour smell of freshly voided bowels. He tried to tamp down his rumbling growl, but the only way he could control it was to hold his breath. The wolf was too eager to come out; the situation was too perfect for it—stalking in the dark, smelling blood and fear, knowing enemies were near. Ward held his breath and crept around the corner.

  In the shades of gray that would be pitch black to a normal person, he saw another cavern open up, this one twice as wide as the one they’d passed earlier. At the center of the space lay Lazlo. He was facing Ward as though he’d turned to come back to the rest of their party, but something had caught him. Something had pulled the spine from his back and flung it to the side, where it lay dripping blood into a pool that slowly crept toward the much larger one under the body.

  Ward lurked there in the shadows of the tunnel, straining his ears. In the distance behind him, he could hear the hissing whispers of Haley and True—hopefully, she was telling her to wait. He couldn’t focus on that, though; his eyes had perceived a patch of gray, darker than the rest, halfway up the cavern wall to his right. It clung to a cleft in the stony wall, and as he stared, Ward saw a glimmer of two red-orange orbs as they flickered over him. Could the thing see him as he saw it? Was it time to stop being sneaky and unleash a spell or fire his pistol?

  Ward inched out of the tunnel, creeping ever-so-quietly to the right toward the darker shadow. It didn’t move, and its eyes didn’t pass over him again, so he grew bolder, moving more quickly toward it before his companions grew tired of waiting and stumbled into the cavern with their clumsy lights. He might have worried that his sword would reflect some light and give him away, but there was no light to reflect. He figured if his faintly glowing eyes were going to get him caught, they would have already. So, he crept forward, step after step, avoiding bits of stone and careful not to scuff his feet.

  When he was ten feet from the shadow clinging to the wall, Ward bunched his thighs and leaped, hacking his sword in an overhead chop as he came down. Something must have alerted the creature or devil or whatever it was; it shifted at the last second, raising an appendage to block the blade. Ward’s sword crunched into something fleshy, grinding into bone, and his would-be victim shrieked in a voice that might have been a man’s but was garbled by whatever had twisted his form.

  And what a twisted form it was! Three more long black limbs unfolded from the creature’s bulk and stabbed toward Ward. He threw one off with his left arm and kicked out with his foot, knocking the thing back as it clawed at him. He felt the hooked claws on those limbs grab his armor, two sliding off and one finding purchase. It pulled, and if Ward hadn’t been a good deal stronger than a man his size ought to be, he might have been flung forward onto his face. He resisted, though, stepping back and hacking again with his sword at the limb that grasped his leather.

  The blade crunched into it, biting deeply, nearly getting caught in the bone, but the creature hissed and thrashed, whipping the damaged member up and down while it slashed at Ward with its other limbs. He shielded his face with his left arm and hacked his sword frantically, trying to hold on to the discipline he’d drilled into his sword-arm while practicing with Lisa. He parried and kicked and grasped with his left hand.

  He caught fragments of things like cloth in his fingers, and he yanked, trying to pull the thing off balance, but it was strong and sturdy, and one of its claws caught him on the shoulder, in the crook of his neck, digging a painful, burning furrow. Suddenly, Ward’s gray-tone vision took on a brighter yellow hue, and he felt a deep roar rumble out of his chest as he surged forward, snarling and hacking his sword with renewed vigor and ferocity. This time, when the blade caught a limb, it hacked through it, and hot blood showered the air.

  Grinning fiercely at his success, Ward drove forward, hacking again and again, ruining limbs with each blow. Even so, frustration built in the burgeoning bestial presence in his mind—he wanted to kill, not dismember. So he pushed forward, driving the thing to the wall and, with a final, two-handed, overhead cleave, he cut through an upraised limb and brought the heavy, broad-bladed sword down on the creature’s skull, splitting bone until the blade sat right between those two glowing orange eyes.

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  Satisfaction washed over Ward, and with it, he was able to push the beast inside him down. He took a deep, cleansing breath and felt his vision darken to the usual grays, and his hands seemed to fit the hilt of his sword better. With a deep, shaky sigh, he licked his teeth to ensure they were normal; they were. He twisted the blade, cracking the skull wider so he could yank it free.

  “Ward!” Haley called, and he turned to see her and the others emerging from the tunnel, lanterns blazing. He squinted at the sudden brightness and looked away, irritated again. In the glow of their light, he could see his opponent more clearly. It looked like a man that had been born from a giant spider. Of course, that wasn’t anything like a scientific assessment. The guy was bald, his skin more gray than a normal human’s ought to be, and his eyes were large and oval. He had four arms and two legs, and the only clothes he wore were strange bits of rag that looked to have fused with his flesh.

  Ward leaned forward and pried its mouth open with the tip of his sword, revealing teeth that looked like they were made for slicing flesh; they almost looked like shark’s teeth to Ward. He felt Haley and Lisa approach and heard the scuff of boots and mutters of the others as they inspected poor Lazlo. “Glad this bastard didn’t get a bite of me.”

  “What is it?” Haley’s voice was hushed, and Ward could feel the heat coming off her; she’d warmed up with her Gopah at some point.

  “Some twisted alchemical experiment, no doubt,” Lisa replied when Ward didn’t.

  “It was strong and fast,” he said, turning to gesture toward the others standing around Lazlo’s corpse. “Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.” Ward stepped aside as the marshal walked his way, fist clenched around her cleaver-like sword. “Sorry about your deputy.”

  “I am, too. I can’t believe this thing spotted him. He was the best scout I ever knew.”

  While True inspected the creature, Ward let his eyes drift upward, and he saw a niche carved into the stony ceiling. He walked over to the dead deputy and saw what he’d been looking for. A thin layer of sand was spread out in the center of the cavern, most of it caked in blood. “It was a trap. The thing was above, and when your man scuffed this sand, it knew to drop on him.”

  True looked up and walked over to join him. “Damn it. He had good eyes and a way of traversing the gloom, but he wouldn’t have seen that.”

  Ward nodded, and, gripping his sword tight, he started toward the far tunnel. “I’ll scout the rest of the way. Wait here.”

  “Now, ’old on a minute, Ward—” True started to say, but Lisa was quick to back him up.

  “Marshal, look at Ward’s eyes. Look at mine. We have ways to see through the gloom. Let him go first; did you not note how quietly he prowls?”

  True gave Ward another look, then glanced at her dead deputy and the creature Ward had slaughtered. “Fair enough. We’ll wait here for your word to advance.”

  Ward nodded and took another step toward the tunnel, but then he stopped; something had caught his eye. He slowly turned back toward the corpse of the mutated man or creature or whatever it was, and he noted the familiar sparkle of luminescent blue mana motes. More importantly, he noticed that some were larger, and he was sure he’d caught the flash of something like electricity flickering through them. He looked at Lisa. “Do you see that?”

  “The mana?” She looked at the others nervously, used to hiding her macabre method of gaining magical energy.

  “Doesn’t it seem different to you?”

  “Um…” She stepped closer to the corpse, peering more intently. “Does it flicker more?”

  “What’s going on there, Ward?” True asked.

  “A moment, Marshal. It’s something to do with sorcery.” Ward knelt beside the corpse and extended his hand into the motes. He felt the electric tingle almost immediately, but he had to close his eyes and focus, shutting out the sounds of everyone else—their breaths, their shuffling feet, their whispered questions—before the first cold, tickling tingle entered his palm and then rapidly surged up his arm. It was just the usual tickling pleasure of mana at first, but then, just like with the dead sorcerer, a jolt of something electric ran up his arm, and he gasped as euphoria flooded his mind.

  He went rigid, and Haley grabbed his shoulder, pulling, but she might as well have been pulling an oak trunk for all he budged. Of course, Ward hardly noticed her. His body was tingling with the sensation, and when he finally felt his body and mind reunite, he had to blink several times and shake his head to gather his senses. When he turned toward the group of concerned companions, several cursed, a few stepped back, and Lisa hissed, “Your eyes are blazing!”

  “It’ll fade.” He looked at her, peering into her dimly shining green eyes. “Did you try it?”

  She shook her head. “I thought something was the matter.”

  “Gather some while I scout ahead.” Ward stood, feeling invigorated and full of purpose. He looked at True. “Sorry, Marshal. Whatever sorcery changed this man—the mana that lingered after his death was rich.”

  She nodded and spat a glob of tobacco juice at her feet. “I’ve seen a sorcerer gather mana before. I met quite a few at the Citadel.”

  Ward glanced at the three DeGrand house guards, two of whom looked ready to run for the exit. “Relax, men. I’m on your side.” With that, he stalked toward the tunnel and crept into the darkness. The tunnel continued at an upward slant, and before long, the glow of his companions’ lanterns was behind him. Ward’s eyes adjusted, and he moved silently through the darkness, watching for shadows that didn’t belong.

  His caution didn’t prove warranted until he came to what he hoped was the end of the tunnel. He could see gray stonework ahead, the mortar damp like the rest of the tunnel, but it was aglow in the light of torches or lamps—he couldn’t see which. Slowing even further, he approached the tunnel opening, and when he reached the start of the mortared stones, he peered around the corner.

  Steps led up to a landing and a closed, heavy, wooden door. A single guard sat before the door, his legs on a stool while he quietly carved away at a piece of wood with a small, curved knife. Ward thought about going back for the others, but it had taken him nearly ten minutes to get to where he was. Going back for them would stretch that toward twenty; a lot could change in that time. Mind made up, he stepped into the room and climbed the steps in two quick bounds.

  When the guard looked up, startled, Ward was already looming over him, sword held high. “Just sit still and be quiet. I don’t want to kill you if I don’t need to.”

  “Who the shi—”

  Ward swung the sword halfway, and the guard choked his words off with a yelp, cowering as his knife clattered on the stone floor. “Good. How long are you supposed to guard this door?”

  “All night!”

  “You know anything about the goddamn monster back there?” Ward jerked his head toward the tunnel.

  “N-no, sir! I was told to stay on this landing and protect this door.”

  Ward stared into his bloodshot eyes, analyzing his face. He certainly had a convincing tremor in his voice, and his forehead was beading with sweat; the guy was nervous and scared. He nodded. “Okay, take off your belt and shirt, then sit up straight.” When the man hesitated, Ward growled, “Unless you’d rather I just cut your damn throat?”

  “No!” He fumbled with his sword belt, pulling the extra length of leather through the clasp and then letting it fall to the floor. Then, he shrugged out of his stained leather vest, letting it fall too as he pulled the collar of his long-sleeved, rough-spun shirt over his head. Ward helped him out, grabbing the fabric and yanking it. It smelled of sweat and onions. The man folded his arms over his hairy paunch, rubbing his shoulders as he shivered. “You… You won’t kill me, will you?”

  “Stand up and turn around. Put your wrists behind your back.” As the man complied, Ward stuck his sword under his arm so he could use both hands to rip the sleeves off his shirt, then he bound the fellow’s wrists behind his back with one. “Sit down.”

  “R-right.” The guard complied, and Ward used the other sleeve he’d ripped off to tie a gag around his mouth.

  He kept the gag loose, at first, nodding to the door. “How far up is the next guard station?”

  “The stairs lead up to the cellar. There ain’t guards stationed there, but patrols go by regularly.”

  “And the cultists? That crazy old Dame? Where do they do their little rituals?”

  “I…” The guard’s eyes widened, and he glanced around as if seeking a hidden rescuer. When none came, and Ward leaned closer, a deep rumble starting up in his chest, the man stammered, “Sir, I don’t know for sure, but there’s a chamber beyond the library. None of us are allowed inside. Big ornate doors—mahogany, I think. Sometimes, we hear things. Me and the lads talk about it when no one’s around—chanting, screaming, weird music. I dunno what the lady of the house does in there with her guests, but if something’s happening, that’s where I’d look.”

  Ward nodded. “Good. You might have just earned your life. Listen!” Ward slapped him roughly until his eyes focused on his. “I’m going back down that tunnel to grab the rest of my people. If you’re not here when I get back, I’ll hunt you down and eat your heart. You understand me?” He leaned close, letting his eyes bore into the trembling fellow’s.

  “I swear on my dead ma’s grave, sir. I won’t move an inch.”

  “Ward,” Grace said, nearly sending him to an early grave as his heart lurched.

  “Jesus! What?” he growled, jerking his gaze her way.

  “Hah! I haven’t done that in a while—startled you. Um, sorry about that. Anyway, this guy doesn’t have a passenger. I’m sure of it.”

  “W-what, sir?” the man cried, looking at Ward like he’d just bitten the head off a mouse.

  “Quiet.” Ward tightened the gag, knotting it securely in place, then hopped off the steps and started back the way he’d come. “You saw that mana I harvested from the, uh, monster?”

  “I did! I felt it, too! I’d bet good money that you have more anima than before.”

  “I wonder why? Was that guy a sorcerer? Was he created by sorcery?”

  “No idea. It’s possible he’d done that to himself. Perhaps it was the result of dark magic. Did you search him for a grimoire?”

  “No, Grace—he was nearly naked. Maybe up in the house.”

  “I’m going to hide again. Be careful, Ward.” She grabbed his shoulder, slowing him. “I’m worried about what you’ll find behind those doors the man spoke of. Don’t be reckless—remember you have allies.”

  Ward looked into her eyes, showing he was listening, then nodded. She smiled and disappeared, and Ward started jogging again. He had a feeling in his gut, a kind of sinking, twisting feeling, and he knew damn well what it meant: he was pretty sure things were about to get messy.