Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2) Read online

  “There ain’t no other way,” she said softly. “You know it. I know it.”

  “You’re mad. This bullshit fucking revenge of yours has addled your fucking brains. We can’t stay here. You think you can kill it, but you can’t. I’m telling you. It’s suicide. Please, Nysta. Listen to me.” Fear made him shudder as the awful sound of chains grinding on stone scraped down through the tunnels. His eyes were wide and he looked ready to weep in desperation as he sought to convince her to leave. “Please.”

  “Reckon you’re feeling more afraid than you ever felt before, Chukshene?”

  He blinked. Nodded. “You’ve no fucking idea.”

  “You’re wrong.” She peered through the shadows of the tunnel at the pale glow which promised nothing but death. “I got a good idea. Feel it all the time. But I’ve learnt to hold it in. Keep it chained inside, if you like. Never let it go. That’s what they trained me to do. Crush it up into a white hot ball. Break it open. Spit in its face. And use it. Use that fear, Chukshene. It’ll keep you fast. It’ll keep you alive. Now, I ain’t a spellslinger like you. Ain’t faced everything there is to face in this world. And I don’t pretend to know what the fuck it is that’s in there. Never heard of anything like it. But I know one thing. I know it breathes. And if a thing can breathe? Well. That thing can die. Just a matter of how.”

  “You didn’t see it.” His eyes slid away from the glow. Down to the ground between his feet.

  “But I will. And when I see it, I’ll kill it. Seeing it won’t change a fucking thing for me right now. You say it’s got a lot of chains? Well, I’ve got something I reckon can counter them. Something I can use to shut them down long enough to cut its fucking heart out.” She slapped him roughly on the shoulder and flashed a crooked grin. The kind of grin which made his stomach roll hard in his belly as he realised she was mad enough to rush into even the Shadowed Halls. And that, right now, he was mad enough to follow. So he judged it to be his madness, drunk on terror, which made him suddenly feel giddy as she finished; “Got me a ‘lock for those chains.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t count on me being the key to your success on this one,” he said, voice quivering in the dark.

  “Don’t sweat it, Chukshene. I never mistook you for that kind of key,” the elf said mockingly. “On account I always figured you for the missing link kind.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The elf called Nysta often dreamed of her father. In her dreams he was a tyrant. A nightmarish beast of savage power draped in his black cloak of office. He’d swoop down upon her shivering body and scoop her up in dry insect arms. His face, an impassive mask. Alien.

  Always, she would scream. Beat at his chest and rake splintered fingernails across his face.

  The gates of his Hold would open.

  The streets, thick with ice and snow, beckoned with casual violence. He would hold her, away from himself. Suspend by the scruff of her neck like a mewing kitten. Glowing red eyes studying her struggles as though surprised by her pleas for forgiveness. Not for having done anything wrong, but for having been born in the first place.

  For a moment, they’d almost connect.

  And she thought he might relent. Might pull her back and hold her close. Whisper apologies and promises.

  Then the sharp exhale of poisoned breath and he’d toss her hard into the howling maw of the frozen street.

  Rolling across the ice, Nysta wept. Tears scarred her cheeks. As she shuffled away from the only home she’d ever known, she cursed his Hold. Swore never to look upon it again.

  But no matter where she went, the chains of blood which bound her there still tugged at her soul. Called to her. Sang to her.

  Now, as she moved with desperate stealth toward the gaping hole rent in the tunnel wall, the elf found her mind filled with the recurring nightmare. Her knuckles, white around A Flaw in the Glass, threatened to crack.

  She wondered if her father knew.

  Wondered if it ever occurred to him that she’d been the one to burn his Hold to the ground on the day she left Lostlight forever.

  Her mouth curled into a cruel line toward the scar on her cheek as she remembered the smell of smoke. And her heart beat harder in her chest.

  She’d faced her nightmares, she told herself. Faced them and turned them to ashes. The dream which used to leave her curled up in a weeping ball now left her smiling in the dark.

  It was, she reckoned, how to deal with fear.

  Destroy it.

  The ceiling beyond had collapsed with the creation of this new hole in the tunnel’s ribs. So any hope she’d had of sneaking past the opening and avoiding another fight was lost to her.

  Rubble was strewn across the tunnel ground. Deep scars showed where the creature’s chains had gouged into the rock. Smeared blood both old and new were sign of the creature’s gruesome burdens. More bodies for the wall, she thought.

  Shouldering up to the edge of the wide gaping hole, she sucked a deep breath and glanced at the warlock. He edged closer, book wide open in his trembling hand. Though fear was a vivid aura around him, he nodded for her to take her first look at the creature she could hear shuffling inside.

  With dread making the hairs on the back of her neck rise like steel pins, she rolled her cheek along the edge of the wall until the room within was in view.

  And caught her breath.

  The cavernous chamber was enormous. The ceiling reached so high she could barely make it out as more than a covering of shadows.

  Centuries ago, the chamber may have been regal. But mould and thick cracks torn into the smooth plaster tainted what echo of pristine glory that may have been. It was lit by many large torches set against the right side wall. Light which seemed afraid of the gloom hovering at the rear.

  Shattering any last impression of finery, a mass of steaming oil-drenched gears and immense pulleys crudely dug into the wall along the left side. Crude because they looked to be made from whatever junk had been littering the area. Chunks of stone and twisted metal. Charred wood. Bones. Some of the gears were as large as houses and the iron chains could be thicker than her torso.

  She frowned. Knew that somehow, the chaotic junkpile controlled the walls outside. Figured the explosive gusts of hot air had something to do with the steam jetting from a few massive rusted pipes which ran up the side of the chamber like metal veins.

  Knew also there was no way they had the combined strength to work those massive gears. So the wall outside would remain closed.

  The brutish stone tiles along the floor were cracked and broken, and in some places the sodden oil-soaked earth clawed out of the uneven depths. The kind of earth that looked ready to spit out its dead.

  Two giant pillars formed a massive arch in the middle of the chamber. Carved from the same stone as the shattered mountain itself, they were given the task of keeping the heavy ceiling from collapsing on the room. A task they’d performed faithfully for thousands of years.

  Perhaps longer.

  Curling mist weaved around the broken tiles like sullen ghosts. A slight greenish tinge to it made her think of poison. Or something more necrotic.

  Hunched at the far end of the long chamber was a throne of massive size. Glittering darkly, the throne seemed made of obsidian and steel. She couldn’t make out any distinctive design, but there was something about it that made her uneasy. Like it was alive.

  Like it was watching her with curious amusement.

  Just beyond the throne, however, she could make out another breach in the wall and she chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.

  But by far the most disturbing thing she could see, was the shrouded creature walking in a wide circle in the centre of the chamber. He was of hulking size. Bigger than any ogre she’d ever seen.

  With each step, the ground shook and dust drifted down from the cracked ceiling like snow. She gave a dry swallow at the slow pace of every step. There was something h
orrible about the way he moved. Something unearthly.

  Greenish-grey skin gleamed wet in the flickering torchlight. Draped in tattered blue robes, the creature looked like something which had itself only just emerged from the cold depths of a tomb. But these features stirred nothing in her. It was instead the chains which made her shiver with the cold touch of fear.

  Chains, many as thick as her wrist. Some thicker. Dozens of them. Long and flowing behind him like shredded metal wings. She could see, even from this distance, how the links burrowed into the creature’s back like iron serpents. How his own blood dribbled from the constantly agitated wounds.

  Could see the impression the chains left as they coiled under flesh and snaked around bones. Down his arms. And knew each movement only added to his torment. That each slow aching step served to soften the agony he might feel if he moved any faster.

  She withdrew slowly, and pressed her head against the tunnel wall. Looked up at the pitted ceiling and wondered just what the fuck she was doing here.

  It was Raste, not this tortured creature, she wanted to kill. Seeing the pain the chained creature felt with every step had numbed her desire to rip its heart from that monstrous chest.

  “Good news, Chukshene,” she said quietly to the expectant warlock. His expression began to lift in hope before she dashed it with; “It really ain’t a dragon. Definitely our friend with the chains. And he’s a big fucking boy.”

  “Shit,” he rubbed hard at his temples. “Now what?”

  She stuck out her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Kill him, I guess.”

  “You don’t sound pleased. For a change.”

  “Nothing about this fucking place is pleasing me,” she said sourly. “Reckon we should get out of here, ‘lock. Quicker the better.”

  “Agreed. So. We kill him. How?”

  “You reckon you can fry him?”

  “Not sure. Depends.”

  “On…?”

  “How powerful he is. Normally, I’d say it’s pretty easy. I mean, he’s a big enough target, so I can’t really miss. But there’s magic surrounding him. And I can’t tell how strong it is. But it’s old. Ancient, maybe. At a guess, I’d say it’s fucking strong. I mean, that wall he’s put up around us? That takes power. Lots of power. I could summon something. A minor demon or two. But that takes more time than I think we’ve got. He’ll hear us long before I finish. So anything I can use will have to be simple. Relatively powerless.” He glanced back down the tunnel, as though hoping she’d suggest they return that way.

  “How powerless?”

  “Ever make spitballs when you were a kid?”

  “Shit.”

  “Right. To be honest, I think he’s gonna skin us. Put us on his fucking wall. Best we can hope for is to be dead before he pins us up.”

  “No need to make me a picture,” she growled. “Anyway. Fuck it. We ain’t got a choice. Tunnel’s collapsed. Looks like there’s another way out. But to get to it, we have to get past that bastard somehow. So, best guess time. How do we kill him?”

  “Best guess?” He squatted in the dirt, running his fingers through his lank hair. “Silver. Don’t suppose you’ve got a silver dagger on you somewhere?”

  “I look like someone who’d need a fancy letter opener?”

  “Never took you for the friendly type, no,” he admitted. “So there goes that idea.”

  “Nothing else?”

  He shook his head. “Look around you. You think this tunnel dates back to the Godwars? Well, then I think that thing is even older than that. In fact, I’ll bet he was here all along. Snug in his lair while Grim and Rule pissed all over themselves out there. And, maybe that’s what woke him. Maybe he’s trying to get his power back. I don’t know. I’m just making shit up because I just don’t fucking know. When you start looking at things like this. Things from the the most ancient years of our past? Well. You’re looking at shit which has crawled straight from the Shadowed Halls, Long-ear. Shit which has no right to live. Should have died a long time ago. So, whatever he is, all I can tell you is he’s old. He’s angry. And the fucker’s probably un-fucking-killable. Now, there’s still time to turn back. Find another way out. But if you really want to go in there, Nysta, then I have to tell you something,” he stared up at her with a bland expression. “I haven’t enjoyed your company all that much. There. I said it. I can die in peace now.”

  “Never asked you to follow me, Chukshene. Fact is, I reckon I told you not to.”

  “And if I did everything I was told to do, Long-ear, you’d be fucking dead.”

  She was about to ask him what he meant by that when a low moan grated up the tunnel from the chamber. The elf felt her heart skip a beat and she whipped to the corner to look sharply around the edge.

  The hulking creature was frozen in place, glaring hatefully toward their position. Eyes glowing icy blue and mouth slowly opening to reveal sharp yellow teeth. As she watched, he let out another gut-wrenching moan. She jerked back into the tunnel, spine crawling as fear gripped tight.

  His voice cut through the air like mallets pounding meat. What he was saying, she couldn’t make out. But it didn’t sound friendly.

  “Too late to back out now, ‘lock,” she growled.

  Chukshene snapped open his grimoire and shuffled through the pages. “Oh, shit,” he croaked. “He’s coming, isn’t he? He knows we’re here. Oh, fuck. I knew this was a stupid idea. A fucking stupid idea. What the fucking shit was I thinking coming out here? Now I’m going to die in a fucking hole in the fucking ground. You know what? I should’ve followed that fucking horse. Smart fuck, that horse. It had the right idea. But, no. I follow the mad fucking elf. What the fuck was I fucking thinking? Insane fucking bitch is gonna get me killed. I-Nysta…?”

  She met his imploring gaze. Smoothly drew and twirled A Flaw in the Glass in her fingers. The venomous glow rippled around the blade. “Let me guess,” she sighed. “You’re gonna need a few minutes?”

  Despite terror scratching at his veins, he looked relieved. “Thanks.”

  “Better be something real good in that book of yours,” she said. Took a few quick breaths, filling her body with oxygen. Feeling that ice cold ball of fear spin faster. Ready to burst. “Or we’re fucked.”

  “Just keep him busy,” the warlock said, not looking up. Finger stabbing at lines on his page.

  She nodded curtly. “Sure, Chukshene. But don’t you keep me waiting with baited breath.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She was round the corner like a ferret down a rabbit hole. Ragged hair streaming behind. Snarling curses, she charged the thing. Sent Go With My Blessing ripping through the air to punch hard into the creature’s chest, left of centre. Knew it wouldn’t do much, but succeeded in getting his full and undivided attention.

  The massive creature looked down at the handle jutting from his chest. Plucked it out using two thick fingers, something which took a while as the knife seemed too small for him to grasp properly. Stared at the blade curiously before tossing it aside.

  The elf skidded to a halt at his feet.

  He was taller than she’d expected, and she barely reached his waist. Looked up into the cold blue eyes and felt the icy ball of fear grow in her belly until there wasn’t room for anything else.

  He opened his mouth, tainted yellow teeth drooling black spit. Reeked of grave soil and rotten meat. “You will join the souls on my wall, little elf,” he said. His cavernous voice rolled through her. Echoed in the massive chamber. “Join those who came before. Die.”

  “Be polite,” she darted away from the swinging arm which howled over her head. Had she remained where she was, there was no doubt in her mind it would have crushed her. A Flaw in the Glass flared brightly, the enchanted glow coiling around her wrist
. She struck once, feeling the blade tear into his belly. “And die first.”

  Howling, he jerked backward, tearing A Flaw in the Glass from her grip. Spinning hard on her heels, the elf didn’t miss a beat as her fingers found the handles of Entrance Exam and In the Mood. The twin daggers flew like steel insects. Plunged through the tattered robes and between ribs.

  More futile gestures.

  Thin green blood ribboned from the wounds and the creature turned on her. “Foolish little thing,” he said. “Foolish little toys. You cannot end me with these. My master made me strong!”

  She could hear Chukshene’s voice, chanting from inside the blackness of the tunnel. Twisted her mouth into a cruel grin. “Won’t stop me from trying, though,” she said.

  Star Studded Cast appeared in her fist, swinging for his throat as she leapt through the air.

  Sneering, the creature moved with a suddenness that surprised her. Seized her arm in a frozen hand. He spat a word she couldn’t understand and a pulse of darkness pumped down his arm and cannoned through her body like a shock wave.

  As the blast ripped through her core, she vented a scream and dropped the blade.

  Releasing her with a contemptuous snarl, he watched with growing confusion as she staggered backward. Her feet felt too heavy to lift and it took a few moments to regain her balance. Felt like someone had hit her with a sledge.

  She dropped into a fighter’s crouch, still dazed, but ready for more. Felt the icy ball begin to melt as her patience ticked down. A flicker of flame.

  His blue eyes burned in puzzled disbelief. “You resist. It cannot be. You must submit. Why do you still stand?”

  She spat a thin stream of blood. “It’s easier than sitting,” she said. And rushed in again. I Spit on your Grave cut into the arm which swung up defensively. It bit into bone, but still couldn’t draw more than an irritated grunt from the creature. Tugged hard and the blade came free with a gasp of pungent green blood. Grabbed hold of his forearm and swung around his shoulder like a monkey on a tree limb.