KGWrites

Iona

Birn Tharum Upper Vaults, Fallham, Barony of Fallham

Iona paced back and forth in the end of the hall of horrors that was the dungeons of Aethril Palace. Her arms were folded across her chest as she stared up at the staircase into the main palace, trying not to picture her friends facing the horror that lay beyond. Occasionally, she would tap the tip of her sword against the invisible barrier that blocked their progress. So far, it had flared with a blast of magic in response every time.

Next to her, James had opened the lock to the bloodstained room where Zaygor drained his sorcerer servants of blood and was quietly dismantling the machinery with a determined focus. Whenever a piece came free, he would silently slide it into his pack.

“Why bother keeping the parts? Why not just destroy them?” Iona asked him as he worked.

James chuckled drily, the tip of his tongue poking between his teeth as he worked.

“Two reasons. One. It’ll likely take longer to fix if there’s nothing left of it, rather than some broken pieces that can be fixed. And two.” He sighed with satisfaction as he spoke, pulling the thin tubing from the roof down and beginning to wrap it up. “This stuff looks expensive. Might fetch us a good price.”

Iona chuckled, shaking her head gently. “Trust you to be thinking of the profits. And you really couldn’t be stealing from a nicer man too.”

James paused, glancing up the stairs, his expression going stormy for a moment. “Third reason. It’ll piss Zaygor off.” He growled.

Iona followed his gaze up the stairs. Ever since James had worked out the purpose of the equipment in the cell, she’d been fighting the urge to rush upstairs and find Alyx and Meghan before they found themselves up against the empowered Baron.

She flicked her sword against the barrier again.

It bounced off.

Iona stared at the invisible barrier for a while. She was deeply angry with herself for not insisting on Meghan continuing her magical education, perhaps then she might have been able to tear down the barrier from here.

Not even Meghan would have been able to do that. Otherwise she’d be here. A calming voice soothed at Iona’s growing anger. But another answered. Harsh and self-assured.

Meghan doesn’t have the power of the world’s greatest mages in her bloodline.

“They’ve been gone too long.” She decided as James placed the last pieces of the transfusion equipment in his pack. He glanced up and gave her a thin smile.

“Whatever you say goes here Iona. You want to go help them, I certainly won’t argue. But if we trust they’ll get the job done on their end…” He trailed off, looking to the invisible barrier.

“Helpful.” Iona replied bitterly. James shrugged.

“Making sure you know the stakes on both choices is all.”

Iona turned back to the barrier one more time. She should stay, she knew it. Her duty would have her stay, get the blade. Alyx and Meghan would face the monster at the palace’s peak, doing their job so that Iona and James could do theirs.

On the other hand, her friends were likely now deep in the lion’s den, and she would be leaving them to be fed on.

“No. It’s been too long, I can’t leave them alone with him.” She decided, tightening her grip on her sword. Next to her, James stood and stretched.

“Oh, thank The Village. I was worried you were about to get all noble princess on me there. Duty first and all that bollocks.” He smiled, lifting his bow from where it leaned against the door.

“Duty can get fucked, my friends are in trouble!” Iona replied quickly, already striding off down the corridor.

James hurried behind her, falling into step. “I’m liking you more and more you know.”

As they reached the foot of the stairs however, there was a loud cracking sound behind them, causing them both to turn.

Blue light was spreading slowly across the barrier at the far end of the hall. As Iona and James watched, parts of it began to slowly flake away and rise upwards, blue fire eating at the edges like burning embers from a fire.

“Alternatively,” James began with an amazed laugh. “Alyx has never let me down.”

Without a second thought put to whether Alyx and Meghan were in further danger, Iona turned and started back down towards the barrier. Alyx and Meghan had done what they had been sent to do, not to use that would be stupid.

As she walked, she looked back to grin cheekily at James.

“I’m going to tell her you were ready to give up on her.” She teased.

“Oh! That’s how we’re going to be?” James spluttered, though he smiled back at her. “I’ll remind you it was your call to leave.”

“Was it?” Iona replied, feigning confusion. “Don’t recall that. Guess it’s the word of a Princess against the word of a thief then.”

“I’m going back on the whole liking you thing.” James muttered behind her. Iona laughed.

They reached the space where the barrier had burned away and Iona came to a stop. She looked to James as he looked from her to the empty space. Then she slowly lifted her sword once more and tested the empty space.

It didn’t bounce back. This time it cut through empty air with an almost lazy stab.

“Didn’t put it past Zaygor to not just make it look safe for us.” She explained and he nodded.

“Fair, very fair.” He agreed as the two of them stepped through into the wider chamber beyond. “But I’m going to tell Alyx that you still didn’t believe it was safe.”

“Now I’m not so sure I like you either.” Iona snipped back at him.

Whatever James was going to reply died on his lips as they took in the room, replaced with a low whistle.

The room was vast. Built of thick stones perfectly shaped into interlocking bricks that held strong and sturdy, despite the space’s clear age. The silvery light they had seen before proved to be coming from a series of well-polished silver mirrors, set high in the walls and seemingly carrying a bouncing beam of moonlight from somewhere above the surface.

Carved into the right-hand wall was an intricate series of figures and landscapes. It looked almost like a tapestry but made of stone and carved directly into the wall. The left side of the room was dominated by a towering statue of a tall, thin figure, lifting aloft a sword. The statue stood nearly four times the height of Iona, and the sword was lifted higher again than that. The figure’s ears ended in thin points, and the teeth in its smiling mouth were long and sharp. Next to the figure was a second statue, smaller and more bulky. The figure was broad, with a barrel chest and long beard and hair that left only a bulbous nose and narrowed eyes. Its arms were folded across its chest as it looked on proudly at the blade in the hand of the taller statue.

In the far wall, a pair of tall stone doors stood slightly ajar. The light from the mirrors didn’t reach that far, leaving only darkness beyond.

The only thing that brought down the impressive sight was the number of desiccated skeletons that lay around the floor of the room.

They were scattered around the space, all clad in armour that had dulled to rust and moth-eaten cloth. The remains of weapons lay nearby, also so decayed as to be near destroyed. Iona looked at them uncertainly.

“What happened to them?” She asked.

James descended the short flight of steps to the main floor of the room ahead of her, crouching by the nearest skeleton. Gingerly he lifted its bony arm for a closer look. Dust immediately sprang out from around it as the cloth of its armour gave way leaving James coughing slightly as he stood to move away.

It was only when he stopped coughing that he seemed to notice that he was still holding the skeleton’s arm.

“They died.” He said blankly, dropping the bones with a quiet clatter. “A long time ago by the look of it.” He looked back at Iona and motioned for her to come down into the room as he approached the carved wall. But as she started to follow, he turned to her.

“It’s hard to see the detail on this, even with the moonlight. Go grab one of those torches.”

Iona nodded and turned back into the corridor they had come from, moving to the nearest torch sconce and lifting it free. Then she quickly returned, finding James running his hand across the wall, his brow furrowed.

As Iona reached James, she glanced down the tunnel through the gap in the stone doors and froze, her grip suddenly tighter on her sword. Slowly, she lifted the torch, taking a step towards the gap. Nothing was beyond, just a dark void. But she could have sworn that for a split second as she’d held the torch towards the darkness, two shining disks had flashed in the black.

“Everything alright?” James asked from behind her. The sudden voice made her jump.

“I… I thought I saw something. Shining behind the door.” She explained hurriedly, not taking her eyes off the blackness.

James stood straighter again, placing an arrow on his bowstring and stepping next to Iona. Then he silently nodded towards the door.

Swallowing hard, Iona gripped her sword and held the torch forwards, advancing on the door.

They reached either side of the gap, pressing up against the stone, James half drawing his bow. After a second, he locked eyes with Iona, and silently began to mouth a countdown.

Three. Two. One.

They sprang around the door together, the torchlight suddenly illuminating the space beyond as James drew back his bow to shoot.

At nothing.

The stone corridor beyond was empty, barring a few more skeletons near the door. The expertly carved stone continued forwards before descending further into the dark ground beyond.

Slowly, the two of them released their held breath and Iona looked at James somewhat sheepishly.

“I could have sworn I saw something shining back here.” She told him apologetically. He glanced at the torch and then into the empty corridor beyond.

“Probably the torchlight catching on some pieces of leftover armour on the skeletons. The flickering plays tricks on you like that if it catches something that reflects. Alyx once swore she’d seen a ghost when it was just a cat’s eyes in the dark shining her torch back at her. She had nightmares for weeks.” James reasoned before turning back to the carved wall and ushering Iona over to join him.

“See here?” He pointed to the wall, to where carvings of tall, thin figures were battling with monsters of all shapes and sizes. From the figures, little ripples had been carved into the stone, spreading out across the wall beneath them.

“I think it’s the wars of Evellien and Demons.” James explained. “See how their blood coats the land?”

“The creation of the Bloodfields.” Iona realised and James nodded. Then he moved to the right, showing a larger carving of a thin figure, hooded and cloaked, meeting and shaking hands with one of the smaller bearded figures like the statue behind them.

“This must be the Evellien coming to the Dwarves of Birn Tharum for help, starting the trade relationship that built this place.” He tapped a carving that Iona had initially just taken to be intricate brickwork, but now up close she could see that it was a vast palace, covered in twisting Evellien designs.

James moved on, finding himself in front of an image of several of the barrel-chested figures. Dwarves, Iona realised. The figures encircled a carving of a table, upon which one of the monsters from the earlier carving was bound. The one that had appeared to be directing the smaller monsters in the battle. A familiar looking apparatus was attached to it, drawing a tank of liquid from it.

“They captured a Blood Demon.” James breathed, running his fingertips along the stonework.

“And drew its blood.” Iona continued, pointing to the apparatus. The same that James had dismantled and stolen from Zaygor.

She moved past James, to the next part of the carving. In it, the Dwarves now poured the collected blood into a mould of a sword, above a roaring flame. She scowled at the carving.

“Why would they…” She began to ask as James sucked his teeth next to her.

“Your blood tastes like a copper penny.” He reasoned grimly. “There’s metal in blood.”

“Yes, but not much. Nowhere near an ore or an alloy.” Iona replied. “You’d need the blood of…”

“Hundreds.” James finished. “But if the thing you’re getting the blood from doesn’t die…”

Iona turned back to the carving, staring in horror at the bound monster on the table. “They tortured it.”

“They did.” James agreed, his voice cold and stiff. “And they made…”

He turned on his heel, looking up at the sword in the hand of the statue behind them.

“The Brightblade.” Iona finished, her hand rising to grip the thin leather strap that held the hilt of the weapon beneath her armour. She knew the patterned Evellien carvings and the sapphire pommel precisely by now and recognised the exact same in the sword held by the statue.

Then something caught her eye. A glint of gold, set into the carved stone of the crossguard on the statue. The shape was almost the same, like a gilded replica of the stone it was set in.

“James. The crossguard.” She said, pointing up. James followed her gaze, and a slow smile began to spread across his face.

“Of course. If I was the Evellien ruler of a city where the Brightblade was made, famed for the co-operation between my kind and the Dwarves, then I’d want my piece of the Brightblade to overlook that history. Well spotted Princess.” He clapped Iona on the shoulder, and she smiled proudly.

James returned his bow to his back and approached the bottom of the statue, looking up at the Evellien figure holding the blade aloft. His hazel eyes, the same as Alyx’s, flicked from side to side as he plotted his climb.

“You’re going to climb it?” Iona asked him.

“What was your plan?” James responded, turning to her with a cocked eyebrow. “Ask the sword piece politely to please come down itself?”

Iona ignored his jab. “You’ve got no rope to catch you. Nothing to hold you steady.”

James looked at her for a long while, his face impassive.

“Princess, I’ve been making climbs far harder than this little thing since I was thirteen without a rope to catch me. I can handle this no problem. Do I tell you how to lead people? How to be a good Queen?”

“Not yet.” Iona admitted. “But you will if I give you the chance.”

James clicked his tongue and didn’t answer her for a moment.

“Yeah well, once I do. Then you can tell me how to steal something.” He responded, stepping up to the statue and planting his foot firmly onto it before kicking off and scrambling upwards.

He proved his point expertly, moving quickly up the statue’s body, barely stopping to look at his next destination before carrying on. Iona stuck her tongue out at him.

Soon enough, James reached the statue’s wrist. Balancing on the thin stone, he leaned forwards to examine the gilded piece.

“Definitely the right thing. Well spotted. But it’s jammed in here good and tight. It’ll take me a minute to work it free.” He spoke, his voice echoing off the empty chamber walls. He drew a knife from his belt and began working it into the edges of the crossguard.

“Oh great, I’ll make us a pot of tea then, shall I?” Iona replied and James laughed.

“That’s so royal.” He joked. “I really can’t stand the damned leaf juice you all go mad over.”

Iona chuckled, shaking her head to herself. Then she approached the carved wall again, looking at the tied down Blood Demon.

“One thing I can’t wrap my head around.” She began as she looked over the carving, chewing at her lip.

“Just one?” James joked. Iona extended her middle finger towards him, not turning her head. He laughed.

“If they had a captive Blood Demon, that they could use to make more Brightblades, then why just one?” Iona wondered aloud.

“Well,” James began, his voice still echoing and joined by the sharp scratching of his knife on the stone. “If you’ve made a blade that is intended to kill the unkillable, you’ll want to make sure it works. And if you’ve got a captive who just so happens to be one of these unkillable things…”

Iona nodded, not needing James to finish off the explanation to understand. Instead she moved over to the door, crouching to examine the skeletons. They were tall and long limbed. When Iona lifted the bones to compare to her own arm she found they were half again as long. The teeth in the skulls were sharp and pointed like the teeth in the statue, with long fang like canines. They reminded Iona of the sharp teeth of the cats she’d seen hunting mice in the palace.

Evellien. She realised, looking over them all. A lot of Evellien died here.

Then something else dawned on her too. Something that made the hairs on her arms and neck stand on end.

They died around the door.

The memory of those shining discs rose once again in Iona’s mind and she looked up towards the door, once again glad of the weight of her sword in her hand.

Alyx once swore she’d seen a ghost when it was just a cat’s eyes in the dark shining her torch back at her.

Eyes in the dark.

Slowly, Iona approached the door once more. Taking cautious steps as she crept forwards. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that it drowned out all the sound of James working on the crossguard.

Painfully slowly, the light from the torch crept into the corridor beyond. It revealed the skeletons, piled against the stone doors. Trying to get back out but locked away. Iona now realised.

And yet, the corridor beyond was as empty as before. Nothing within but dull blank stone.

No. Not blank. Not entirely.

Iona hadn’t spotted it before, it was such a subtle thing. But some of the stones on the left side of the corridor were discoloured, bearing pale scratch marks that crept upwards. Here and there, Iona could see tiny holes driven deep into the stonework, like something had been stabbed in.

Her gaze followed the scratches as they moved up the wall, and then onto the ceiling of the corridor. They reached the door and moved through the gap, digging into the frame before rising again above it to reach the high ceiling in the entrance hall.

Sound reached her ears once more as James’ voice rang out triumphantly.

“Ha! Got you, you bastard!”

Iona should have felt glad, sharing in James’ triumph as he claimed yet another piece of the Brightblade.

But instead, all she felt was blood-freezing, paralysing terror.

Because she’d just found the monster.

It was a deep, stony grey, near black against the silvery moonlight. It was covered head to toe in thick fur that looked more like iron wire than hair. Long, thick claws tipped fingers of webbed, shovel-shaped hands. No features could be seen beneath the hair coating its body except for two gigantic, disclike eyes that shone out like beacons, reflecting the silver of the mirrored moonlight.

It was attached to the ceiling by its claws, all its thick limbs pulled inwards to itself like some horrific, fur-cover humanoid spider.

And it hung directly above James as he victoriously held up the crossguard of the Brightblade for Iona to see.

“James! Above!” Iona screamed, dashing towards the statue, throwing the torch to the side.

James turned to look. The monster pounced.

James barely had enough time to scream in horror as the beast collided with him, sending them both tumbling into freefall from the statue.

Luckily, they twisted enough in the air that the creature hit the ground first, with James crumpling into it with a pained cry from the impact. The two bounced away from one another, the beast sprawling across the floor of the chamber, scattering bones and dust as it did so. James meanwhile, hit the base of the statue and cried out, clutching his leg to his chest.

Iona stepped between them, her sword raised towards the monster as it quickly rose back to its feet.

Now on two legs, Iona could see it stood shorter than her by at least a foot, with short limbs and a thick torso. She didn’t need to look behind her at the statue to know what this thing was. Or at least, what it now wasn’t.

It snarled and spat, scratching its claws on the floor. They sparked against the stones. Iona raised her sword and bellowed out at it, screaming a challenge.

And then the monster charged forwards. And Iona charged to meet it.

It moved ferociously, like a starved and rabid beast. And it attacked like one, swinging forwards with its claws in wide arcs that Iona ducked beneath. She stabbed upwards, satisfyingly seeing the sword pass across its arm at the shoulder. A severing blow.

It bit deep. The monster screeched. A horrific, breathless, gasping sound that echoed off the walls and bounced around the room.

But it didn’t sever the arm like it was supposed to.

Instead, the sword bit deep, hit something within the creature and bounced off. It re-emerged from the wound, bringing with it deep black blood and sending a painful reverberation up Iona’s arm.

The creature brought one of its arms back around in a backhanded swing that caught Iona in the chest with the force of a horse’s kick. If she hadn’t been wearing her armour, she felt certain that it would have broken ribs.

Instead, it lifted her off the ground and threw her backwards across the room. Her back impacted hard with the small set of stairs down into the room from the palace and Iona felt her teeth rattle together in her jaw. Nothing felt broken though, thankfully.

But then it was on her again, scrambling across the room on all four limbs and swinging down towards her with its thick hands. She barely managed to lift her sword in time to block, with both its hands closing around the blade and soaking it in black blood as it cut into the palms.

And the monster still pressed downwards, gnashing teeth and dripping saliva that pooled and soaked the wiry hair over its mouth. The weight of it was crushing, pressing down on Iona like a boulder dropped from on high. It stank of rust and old musty air. Iona could see clearly into the wound that she’d carved into its shoulder that the bones of its skeleton were grey and thick, like iron bars.

To her horror, Iona then felt something far worse. Beneath the creature’s hands, she felt the blade of her sword bending. And then, with a sudden screeching crack, it snapped.

Three things happened at once.

The snapping blade of the sword exploded into shrapnel, a piece of which drove painfully into Iona’s gut, causing her to scream. The loss of the barrier between her and the monster caused its full weight to tumble forwards, allowing Iona to slide down the stairs beneath it, rolling out onto the floor. And finally she raised the now much shorter part of her sword still attached to the hilt as she did so, carving a deep gash into the creature’s belly and emptying its stinking guts over her as she scrambled away.

Ignoring the disgusting gore now coating her, Iona scrambled to her feet, raising the snapped half of her blade in one hand and clutching her bleeding side with the other. She screamed at the monster again.

It slowly, shakily, turned to face her. Rising to its feet, it snarled and screeched at her, reaching out one claw tipped arm. It took one step forwards.

And then fell face first to the stone floor, a long death rattle leaving its mouth as it stilled.

Iona stared at it for a moment, breathing heavily, before she remembered where she was and straightened, turning to James.

He was sat against the stone feet of the statue, staring horrified at the monster. The golden piece of the Brightblade was still clutched tight in his palm.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked, his voice thin and terrified.

“I think,” Iona replied, stifling a groan of pain as she walked over to James. “It was a Dwarf.”

James shook his head, still unable to look away from the dead creature. “The Dwarves are all dead, Draconeus cursed them to life underground, they died out.”

Iona reached down a hand to him, ignoring the screams of protest from her bloodied side.

“I think we got that bit of history wrong. I don’t think they died. I think they changed. Into those.” She explained. Then she glanced down at James, remembering how far he’d just fallen with the monster off the statue.

“Anything broken?” She asked. James looked down, slowly flexing his legs with winces of pain.

“No, he took most of the fall. I’m pretty battered though, might need your help.” James replied after a moment. Reaching up, he took Iona’s hand, and she hauled him up, both groaning in pain as it pulled at their injuries. She slung James’ arm across her shoulders as he awkwardly hopped into a fully standing position.

“Still got that Brightblade piece?” Iona asked and he nodded, holding it up for her to see.

“Good.” She breathed. “Let’s get out of here and go see the girls.”

She turned with James, him struggling next to her. But as her gaze fell across the doorway again, lit by the flickering light of the dropped torch, Iona’s blood froze as every nerve lit up in warning.

The darkness of the corridor beyond was filled with glowing, reflective pairs of disclike eyes. There had to be at least twenty, at Iona’s best guess. A hungry, frantic wheezing began to build in the shadows.

“Run?” James suggested.

“Uh-huh.” Iona replied, nodding against him. And they turned back towards the palace, doing exactly that.

As the tunnels behind them became nothing but a rushing, endless wave of starved, bloodthirsty monsters.