Chapter Three
Old Ghosts
“I hear something,” Caerella said, halting on the stairs. After two floors of hacking and slashing through a wall of roots and vines, the climb had become slightly easier. Most of the difficulty came from the uneven footing. The plant-growth had crept up the stairs, making a mis-step dangerous, if not lethal. Part of the stairs were suspended over the tower’s central chamber, and a fall from that height could easily kill someone.
“You — *hff* — always hear something,” Rubicus said, slightly out of breath. They were getting close to the top, and he was decked out in full armor after all. Any implication that he was getting out of shape due to his age was liable to be met with an angry, if slightly winded, glare. He took pride in his ability to take on younger men in contests of strength.
“I’m always right.” Caerella’s expression was an invitation to challenge her.
“She’s got you there,” Flaveo said, halting behind the large man, and he already started to rummage through his pack. “I’ll get you something,” he mumbled. “I’m sure I had another one of these packed.” Producing a small vial with a black liquid, he nodded at Caerella, then at the door at the top of the stairs. “Any idea of what’s in there?”
Caerella shook her head, then put her hand on the door. “No, I heard a shuffling, nothing more. I wish I had more than that. It could be something as simple as a lost animal.”
“Could be wolves,’ Rubicus said. “Haven’t fought wolves in a while.
“My money’s on a bear,” Flaveo said, handing Rubicus the little vial. “There’s no way a wolfpack would make it up those stairs, Ruben.”
“And a bear would? Can bears even climb?” Rubicus crossed his arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow. Cinero had seen them get into arguments like this before. It was just a matter of time before the two of them would start betting on what was behind the door, and then there would be a small wager about who would open the door, or a double-or-nothing.
“Bears can absolutely climb,” Flaveo argued. “Remember, there was that one in Va—”
“If there’s a lost animal in there,” Cinero said, thinking out loud, “why is the door closed?” That shut both of them up.
“Damn, Stoneface,” Flaveo said, and gave Cinero an impressed look. Caerella just smiled at him.
“I’m glad someone’s got their head on straight,” she said, retrieving her own weapon. Caerella was easy to misjudge. She was fairly tall, slightly above six feet and comparatively slender. People expected her to use a bow or daggers. Watching her brandish a battle-axe had a tendency to put people on the back foot, which had come in handy on more than one occasion. “Now, are you boys all argued out and ready for whatever is behind this door?”
Flaveo nodded. He wasn’t expected to do the brunt of the fighting, but he could hold his own. There were more knives strapped to him, under his yellow cloak, than even Caerella knew about. Rubicus held up his greatsword in one hand with an affirmative grunt, the vial of magic in his other. The man was proficient in many kinds of combat, but most of the time, a big, sharp hunk of metal was more than reliable enough. Cinero held up a short sword, making quick eye contact with Caerella.
“Try to stop at ten this time,” Flaveo mumbled.
“Eat me,” Rubicus chuckled. Caerella looked behind the two of them to shut them up, sighed and pushed the door open. Everyone held their breath. The only sound was the creaking of leather and the very soft rattle of mail as they all tensed up, ready for anything.
The top floor of the tower had clearly been, a decade prior, a strategy room of some kind. The remains of a giant wooden table were strewn across the room, splintered into pieces. Claw marks had defaced every surface. Decayed maps littered the floor, and several large chairs had been tossed to the floor. The only chair still upright was a large and ornate oaken throne. Obviously, the prince sat in it.
Cinero had expected a corpse, recognizable only by his clothes, or a crown, or something like that. But Prince Clarus, Lucius’ only son, seemed to be very much… if not alive, then intact. He sat, slumped over, in the throne, the remains of what appeared to have been a sword in his hand. There wasn’t a lot left of it.
More striking was the Prince himself. He looked at peace, his eyes closed, serene. Cinero found it hard not to stare. Even after a decade of being here, seemingly asleep, his facial hair hadn’t grown that much, outlining his jawline with a thin beard. His blonde hair perfectly framed his face to give him an intense but distinguished look. More immediately important, however, was the creature in the room with him. It was, to Cinero’s worry, neither a dog nor a bear. He froze.
The shade had clearly once been a demon. Why it had lingered for so long after the death of the Cavean was a secret the faceless thing couldn’t tell anyone. Its bulking grey-ish torso, held together by decaying infernal magic, lumbered slowly across the floor, dragging itself forward by its claws. Its body faded to nothing where its lower half was supposed to be. It had begun to fade, clearly, and without a master to command it, it had, apparently, lived atop the tower since the Cavean’s demise. Which was probably why nobody had brought the Prince home in all that time. Cinero was struck by how quickly, how rationally he was taking everything in, considering the fact his limbs were completely ignoring every one of his commands.
“Well,” Flaveo whispered, “the good news is that we found the prince.” As soon as he spoke, the creature turned its head, two hollow grey voids where eyes ought to be. “Oh, hells.” Without much more of a word, the four of them rushed into the room. The last thing they wanted to do was fight a demon on the stairs. Caerella started to strafe around the creature while Rubicus positioned himself in front of the others.
This wasn’t the first time Cinero had seen a demon, before or after joining Rubicus’ band. The image of them, their colourless skin reflecting the fires of his childhood, had been burned into his memory. He’d never seen one this far gone before, however. Demons often snarled, roared, devoured. They laughed uproariously and uttered guttural, horrible noises. But this one was quiet, too diminished to retain much of its old personality. It was quiet violence, wordless, soundless rage, and it was terrifying in its own right. Pushing itself upright, revealing its faded, barely-visible form, a grotesque mockery of humanity, the shade began to lumber forward.
Rubicus uncorked the vial with his thumb and quickly downed its contents. Just at that moment, the shade charged, closing the distance far quicker than Rubicus would be able to unleash the barrage of power that was building within him.
“I need a second!” Rubicus said, raising his sword. If he was forced to defend himself from the creature’s attacks, the magic might build until it was too powerful for him to discharge safely, which would spell doom for everyone. Cinero took a breath. Standing there wasn’t going to help anyone, and while he believed fully that the others were capable of taking care of themselves, he was going to do what he could to help, even if… well, it killing him was a possibility either way.
He jumped forward, past Rubicus’ elbow. Neither he nor Flaveo tried to stop him. He was expected to contribute regardless, and the team trusted each other to… trust each other. He knew that if he rushed forward and didn’t get in the way for too long, it would give the man the opening and the time he needed. He also knew that if he didn’t get it right, if he misjudged it, that Caerella or Flaveo would probably step in to save him in time. Probably. And that was a less-than-ideal outcome. He just had to hope that the demon was too weak to react properly to new information. That it was beyond simple instinct, essentially just reliving an old, barely-remembered battle.
It barely reacted to his rush, raising one of its massive arms to swing at him, a sluggish movement that would be easy to dodge. Cinero sidestepped the swing and struck hard at where the creature’s knee was supposed to be. Maybe it simply wasn’t visible. He was caught off-balance when he encountered no resistance, and turned his fall into an awkward roll, doing his best not to impale himself on his own sword. What a way to go out that would’ve been. Getting up, he noticed the creature was turning around, trying to get him with the backswing. Rather than simply blocking the attack, which was likely to fail anyway, he quickly swung forward.
The sword struck the creature’s forearm, meeting it halfway. The blow reverberated through his arm, the weapon thrown out of his hand. His wrist, his whole arm hurt, up to the shoulder, but it had stopped the attack and, maybe more importantly, it had bought them some time. He looked past the creature, which was now between him and the others. Caerella was off to the side where he couldn’t see her.
Rubicus nodded at him and he threw himself off to the ground and to the side, covering his head, trusting his leader not to charbroil him. There was a moment of absolute silence, like the ringing of a hollow bell, and then a torrent of fire and smoke bellowed overhead. The roaring battered Cinero’s eardrums, and he could feel the heat seep into his bones. He’d feel like a lobster for a few days, but that was fine. It was better than being disemboweled.
After just a few seconds, the stream stopped. Cinero rolled over, quickly scrambling to his feet. He’d judged correctly. The creature was still upright, if only barely. As much as it had faded from the world, it wasn’t as impacted by magic as it otherwise might have been, but that didn’t mean Flaveo’s concoction had been without effect. Its grey surface — Cinero hesitated to think of it as skin — was glowing in places where it still burned and it seemed to have been briefly stunned, stuck in place. But it was still facing him, still advancing, and Rubicus was recovering from the attack.
Flaveo darted forward, his wiry body difficult to read through his cloak, but every once in a while he tossed hard steel, small daggers digging into the monster’s arm. It wasn’t doing much to slow the creature down. Without a weapon, Cinero wouldn’t be able to do much to defend himself if it swung at him. With the pain in his arm, dodging was going to be a crapshoot.
It raised up an arm and Cinero quickly leapt backwards to avoid the blow, but the tips of its talons still grazed his shoulder, slicing through his mail armor like it was made of nothing more than paper. Rubicus rushed forward, but the creature had already raised another hand. Its blow was going to land before the man was going to be able to help.
Then Cinero saw something behind the giant creature. Behind and above. Standing on its shoulders, Caerella had her battle-axe raised above her head. Her face was one of serene, calculated effort. She brought the heavy weapon down, splitting the thing’s head bloodlessly in two, immediately halting its movements. With a sigh of relief, the creature crashed to the ground. Cinero wasn’t sure if the sigh had come from himself or the creature.
“You okay?” Caerella asked. Cinero touched his shoulder. Where the creature had struck his skin burned, but the wound wasn’t deep. He nodded.
“This is going to need bandaging, Stoneface,” Flaveo fussed, but Rubicus was already on him, slapping him on the back.
“Hah! It’ll make a nice scar. Good job, boy.”
“You did well,” Caerella said with a nod. “Mistake on the first swing, but otherwise, nicely done on buying us time.” She looked over at the prince. “Now, let’s get our dear Prince on a stretcher, before we find any others like this one around.” Cinero nodded, and looked at the slumped figure of Prince Clarus. He looked almost… sad.
Aw they killed his...friend
Poor sad dead prince
I can't help but wonder if that scratch will have any sort of effect on our dear stoneface