“What the hell was that?!”
They both jumped up, tearing open the doors and racing down the hall toward the noise. Coming to a large dining hall, they saw the source was a wall that had been completely demolished, creating a giant hole into where they were standing. In front of it was Felton, a sword in his hand, he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
“Go back!” he commanded when he saw them.
Sadly, it was too late; a whiny laugh echoed through the ruined hall.
“Hahaha, it’s her! I knew it when I saw your face, Sir Ayers! The girl is with you I presume? HA! That special child that you came all the way to mine own side of the continent for!”
“Shit!”
“Amraduke, bring them in!!!”
Taras heard screaming and crying, and looked around the corner. What he saw froze him in his tracks. At the end of a long table, a massive man sat on a large chair, his girth enveloping part of the table below. A horrible stench wafted through the hole; Taras and Minerva both gagged. It was obvious he hadn’t left that spot since he came, food scraps littered the floor, and there was a chamber pot in the corner. Taras then saw the butler dragging two women by the hair over to the table. They were the women from the inn. The daughter, Taras remembered her name was Claire, was screaming. Her mother looked beaten to the point of passing out, and lay limply on the ground. Minerva had seen as well, and tried to rush out, but was stopped by Felton’s arm.
“It’s a trap.”
“But we can’t just leave them alone!”
“Was the hole here made by the butler?” Taras asked.
“Yes. You both better leave, I didn’t know we were going to encounter them so soon.”
“Who’s them?”
“No matter, just go. Get out of here, and I will meet up with you later.”
“Minerva, I agree with Felton that we can’t rush in. But we can’t just leave them there, and we can’t go without an explanation.”
“Please, go- Taras, take Minerva out of here, it’s important.”
“Too late.”
In the blink of an eye, the butler was right before him. He felt the pain of impact, and was thrown against the far wall. Gasping for breath, he noticed a diagonal split in his clothes down the front of his torso. He looked up to see the butler with purple mana emanating from his hands.
“Strange, that should have cut you in two…”
The next moment, Felton was on top of the butler, swinging his sword at the man’s neck. The butler dodged, and counterattacked, but Felton leapt out of the way with inhuman speed. They kept fighting with astonishing quickness, so much that Taras could barely follow their movements. Minerva kneeled on the ground, a dazed look on her face, sweat creasing her brow. Taras looked down again, realizing he was completely fine, and tried to get up, but couldn’t. Ah, this is what true fear is, he thought absentmindedly.
Suddenly, Felton and the butler stopped fighting. The butler’s throat had been slit; dark, almost black blood ran down his neck.
“Ah, you’ve cut me.”
Taras’ eyes widened; the man shouldn’t have been able to speak if his throat was cut. Taras then saw the butler’s body become enveloped in the nasty purple mana, focused on the throat wound. Skin and muscle fibers stitched themselves back together like a spider building a web. Felton tried attacking again, but the butler dodged every swing. When he was finished, the purple mana flowed to his back, becoming a set of terrifying wings. He then used his wings to knock Felton into the right wall, making it crumble as well.
“Amraduce! Bring the girl to me!” The blob of flesh said.
“I would rather not.”
“Wha- What do you mean? You’re my servant you insolent bastard!”
“That was a lie. My name is Amradieas by the way, you never took the time to learn it. I’m not your servant, I serve a different master. One much wiser and honorable than you, you piece of shit. He wants the girl as well, and that makes you an enemy. So, goodbye, wad of human scum.”
“AHHH-.” Crunch
One of the purple wings protruded out of the Lord’s head, and various fluids came gushing out. The corpse then started rotting almost immediately, becoming infested with maggots within minutes.
“What… What the fuck?” Taras looked at it in disbelief.
“Ugh,” Felton got up slowly, blood running down his face, “Now you see the gravity of the situation, get out of here with Minerva, and I will be right behind!”
Felton belted out the last two words, and suddenly Taras became able to move again. He then quickly ran over to Minerva, still kneeling on the ground, and grabbed her hand forcing her to stand. Sprinting down the hall they came, Taras saw masked men ahead of them, most likely the ones Felton had fought the day before. Taras reached for his short-sword, and realized he had left it back at the inn. Cursing himself, he drug Minerva back the way they came in hopes that there was another exit.
‘Fucking hell, Minerva’s useless and I forgot to bring my damn sword’ he bemoaned while they were chased down the hall. Suddenly, he ground to a halt as a massive figure rose up in front of him.
“Shit! It’s you!”
“…”
The giant in the rabbit mask lumbered over, his large frame blocking their escape. With surprising speed, he swung his fist at Taras. The young man then made a split-second decision, since he wasn’t able to dodge almost carrying Minerva, he kicked her aside and bent his body in order to not be crushed by the attack. Static flared in his mind as pain flashed from his chest. A bruised rib? No, probably broken. His thoughts were a mess, barely having enough time to dodge the next attack, he saw the other had crept up behind them.
He then remembered one time long ago, one of many times that Felton had forced them to train. He had made them run up and down a hill carrying rocks, too many times to count. The day had been hot as well. Minerva had been way younger then, so she only had a few palm sized ones in her hands. Still, she complained, and laid down in a heap before they were supposed to be done. As punishment, Felton had made him carry even more rocks, and run longer. He was so pissed he couldn’t think straight, and tried to call Felton on his BS. But the man had said, “If you’re ever in a group and you end up in battle, the other’s lives are in your hands. If they can’t take it you have to pick up the slack, or else it ends badly for everyone. He still thought it was bullshit in that certain situation though, so he was happy when Minerva didn’t get supper that night as a punishment.
“Pick up the slack huh…” he dodged another attack, and then rolled to the side as one of the knife-wielders jabbed at him.
Actually, they seemed oddly clumsy for even bandits, let alone employees of a lord’s estate. Their heads were cocked at a weird angle, and they move their arms in a creepy dance as they moved. Something was off. He danced around them, avoiding the big guy as well, and aimed and upward kick at the man to his right. It connected with his head, and then Taras wanted to vomit. Something rolled out from under its hood, revealing a writhing ball of maggots eating the flesh off of a partially decomposed skull. Fluid from the eye-sockets soaked into the rug. He then immediately took the head off the other undead, then grabbed Minerva and throwing her over his shoulder. He realized the time for questioning things would be later, or they would be dead.
Minerva’s body was surprisingly light for someone who threw grown men to the ground, Taras thought as he sprinted down the hall again. He made it to the stairs going down to the second floor, where he and Minerva had been earlier. Running down two at a time, he ended at a ‘T’ in the hallway. Looking right and left, he saw what must have been the missing servants, and probably the guards who had been “fired” all wearing masks while quickly shuffling toward him. There must have been close to thirty. The creaking of the stairway above told him that they couldn’t go back either. He saw a door straight ahead, and opened it. It was a closet. Shit.
He stuffed Minerva in to keep her out of the way, closing the door and looking around once again to assess the situation. He didn’t know if he could defeat the undead as well as the big guy at the same time, but he had to do something.
“Something…anything?” he looked around desperately. Then, he saw on the wall next to the stairs, an ornamental shield together with a shabby-looking bastard sword. It was better than nothing. He ran and grabbed them as the first zombie caught up from his left. The shield felt too light, it probably would only help once. But the sword was odd. It seemed out of place for a wall ornament. Without a cross-handle it looked like one of those ancient relics he had seen at markets, but instead of a covering of rust the blade was polished. Perfectly balanced, and sharp enough that he was able to slash right through the undead with ease. He cut one in half, its rotten guts exploding outward. He realized that the dead woman from before had most likely been a servant here; probably running to the sewer before she died and turned.
Another loud sound echoed through the mansion from above. Taras worried for Felton, but only a little bit. That man was strong, there was no way he would lose. So, since Felton was trying his best, he needed to as well. He cut down the last three undead in a single swipe, turning to grab Minerva from the closet; but the big creature(?)1 Taras doesn't know what it is...yet was already down the stairs, its hooded face looming over him. Taras backed up. It let out a deafening roar, and charged at him. He didn’t have time to get away, so he blocked with his shield. It aimed a punch at him. He flew back several meters, slamming into a corner wall.
He felt groggy, he’d lost his sword, and his arm felt like it was on fire. He looked down, seeing the shield completely crushed, his forearm a bloody mess. He painfully ripped it off, throwing it to the side. He probably wouldn’t be able to use it for a good while. He saw the creature slowly lumber toward him, and looked for his sword. It lay where he had been knocked back, now behind where the damned monster was. It let out another bellow, but this time it seemed to be laughing. It was enjoying itself; it was toying with him like cat and a bird with broken wings.
Taras knew, he could just run away, leaving Minerva and Felton behind…but if he did that meant abandoning the only people who he could call family. They had been together for a very long time already. Felton had saved him from a life of slavery, but didn’t hold it over his head like a debt that needed repayment. He loved the old man who was like a father to him. “Take Minerva out, and I’ll handle everything else.” Is what Felton had asked. If Taras was not able to at least that, he would fail them both, and that would be worse than dying.
He kicked against the back wall, springing forward. He could do exactly what he had done earlier in the church now that Minerva wasn’t holding him back. This time, he feinted left, and the giant was none the wiser.
“Gotcha” Taras dove to his right, and rolled to where he had left the sword. He sprung up behind it, jumping as high as he could, slashing at the back of its neck. That would have been dis-honorable for a knight, but he wasn’t one, and probably never would be. It tore through the hood like butter, but then suddenly stopped, hitting something hard. Someone’s teeth, he saw, as the hood slipped off revealing countless faces sewn into a patchwork quilt. Taras jumped back, shuddering at the gruesome sight. It shuffled to face him once again. The rabbit mask had also fallen, showing a gaping open maw, filled with teeth in an almost perfect circle. Five different colored eyes sat on the front above what could barely be considered a nose, looking at the right and left at the same time.
How was he going to fight a monster like that? He had seen many things while traveling with Felton, none weren’t nearly as terrifying and strange. If it hadn’t been clear before, something was very wrong with the mansion, and probably the town. He backed over to where the closet was, raising his sword in preparation. It bellowed once again, preparing to charge.
Crack
A sound came from above, like the roaring of a waterfall. Then, the floor from above caved in onto the giant, crackling flames consuming the creature, and the area around. A horrifying, pitiful scream echoed out from the raging inferno, as it tried to get out from under the burning wooden beams. More debris came down, and then it stopped struggling, twitching as it burned.
Taras flung open the closet, dragging Minerva by the collar of her dress. He started back up the stairs. Their way down was cut off, but at least the monster was dead. He placed the sword in his belt, his other arm useless, laying limp at his side.
The smoke from the fire wafted up, Taras heard Minerva cough. At least she isn’t dead dead, but there must be something wrong with her, he thought. She still wasn’t able to stand, and the fact that Taras only had one arm left didn’t help. But he wasn’t about to die in this place. He reached the top, the fire close to consuming the stairs. He went back to the right, to where the hall had been. Oddly enough it wasn’t the source, and it was deserted as well. There was now a large hole through several rooms, leading to the outside. Taras pressed on until he was standing on the edge of the wall. Down below, the roof of the stables contrasted with the muddy ground.
“I hope both of us survive this…it’s gonna hurt.” He sighed.
He threw his sword far away into the mud, and jumped, shielding Minerva with his body.
