A Dance of Fang and Claw: The Ranger Archives Volume 3, page 42
“Run!” Asher yelled, one hand waving behind him to indicate the tunnel Merith had pointed out.
Fear, bravery, or a combination of the two, perhaps, saw one of the surviving watchmen charge in the wrong direction and swing his sword at Creed’s right leg. With one hand, the enormous wolf snatched him mid-run, taking him clean from his feet. The sword clattered hopelessly against the ground as the watchman was lifted high, his torso fitting neatly inside Creed’s impossible grip.
The man was dead, even if he was currently breathing. They wouldn’t waste his sacrifice. “Run!” Asher urged again, his free hand pushing Lonan after Hadavad. In the mad scramble, one of the remaining two watchmen vanished down the wrong tunnel with naught but a torch for company. The ranger managed one last glance over his shoulder, sighting the other wolves pawing at the ground, desperate to pursue.
The lip of the tunnel concealed the watchman from the shoulders up, just as Creed snapped his powerful jaws shut around his head. Still, Asher heard the blood as it spilled on the cavern floor. “Run!” he cried.
Leading their escape was the only watchman in active service to have taken the correct tunnel. In front of Hadavad, however, he suffered from a lack of light, with the flames surrounding the head of the mage’s staff meeting the man’s back and casting stark shadows before him. Asher didn’t even see him fall down the jagged hole in the path. He heard Hadavad call out for him before hearing the man himself shouting as he plunged into a seemingly bottomless abyss.
“Jump!” the mage called back, crossing the hole in a single leap.
After him, Lonan made the same jump and missed a good footing by inches. His left leg slipped back, taking him down to his waist until he found purchase with his hands. To be sure of his own leap, Asher used a portion of the wall at the side of the hole to kick off from. Upon landing, he and Hadavad gripped a wrist each and dragged the former captain to safety.
“Run!” Asher yelled.
They soon heard the wolves.
Padded feet and sharp claws took to the tunnels with rapidity. With impeccable night vision and an even better sense of smell, they would track down the trio in less than a minute. And so, they had only seconds to evade their pursuers.
Every other tunnel opened up into another cavern, each a different size, but each strewn with corpses, the walls splattered with blood. Hadavad appeared to be choosing their path at random, though he constantly had them turning left and right in the hope of taking some of the speed out of the racing wolves.
“We can’t keep running!” Lonan panted, though it seemed likely he was talking from a place of exhaustion rather than the need to stand and fight.
Hadavad skidded to a stop before two adjacent tunnels, robbing them of precious seconds. Asher barked the mage’s name. “This way!” the older man called, taking them left.
A cool breeze washed over the ranger’s skin before he caught the scent of something damp, or metallic perhaps. A moment later, the tunnel opened up to a canyon so vast several blocks of Kelp Town could have nestled between the opposing walls. There was but a single bridge that connected the two sides, and of sturdy build to handle the flow of Demetrium-filled carts that passed over it day and night. Left and right there was only darkness, a curtain of nothingness that knew no end.
“Down there!” Lonan yelled, directing them briefly to a spot of light in the chasm.
Asher maintained his pace while sighting the distant watchman who had taken the wrong tunnel. As he reached the other side of his own bridge, the light of his torch fading, a Werewolf darted out across the wooden planks, its hunt nearing its end. There was nothing the trio could do to help the man and it seemed likely he would be dead by the time they reached the end of their own bridge.
A sharp growl and a separate snarl resounded from behind them, proving they had troubles of their own. Two Lycans burst from the darkness they had left behind and hurried across the bridge. Further still they heard the terrible sound of an almighty roar, a precursor to Creed’s thunderous steps.
“Quickly!” Hadavad snapped, the first to reach stone again.
The mage was already pivoting to face the incoming wolves as Asher and Lonan ran past him. In the manner of a lumberjack bringing his axe down to chop through a log, Hadavad wielded his staff in two hands as he hammered it down onto the bridge. A flash of brilliant white light erupted from the staff’s end, his magic unleashed.
The spell created a staccato of explosions that rippled across the surface of the bridge, compromising not only the boards but the traversing beams and bracers that kept the bridge fixed between the walls. In seconds, the entire structure was collapsing in on itself and dropping into the abyss. Of the two Werewolves, the slower lost its footing and plummeted with the bridge, its growl transformed into a whimper. The faster, however, managed to leap the remainder of the distance and find purchase with its front claws.
It raked desperately at the ground in an attempt to heave its bulk up and over the lip. A heartbeat was all the time Asher had to think and react. It wasn’t much, a fraction of time in which he could do little but rely on his instincts. And his instincts told him the beast was not Russell.
Too small.
The ranger dropped to one knee and plunged his silvyr blade down and through the creature’s head until the tip protruded its jaw and dug into stone. There he held it, waiting. The monster was unquestionably dead, its weight pulling against Asher in a bid to slip away from the edge. Still he waited, for he had to know, to see with his own eyes.
Inevitably, the wolf’s features faded, retreating to whatever hell it had originally emerged from, and left the human form behind. The weight of the nameless man was a burden Asher could handle, adding to his relief that he had not just killed Russell.
In one motion, he rose from his crouch and withdrew the short-sword, allowing the body to fall away. Asher’s skin prickled, turning his gaze back across the way, to the adjacent wall. He narrowed his eyes but failed to perceive anything but shadows. Sensing his unease, Hadavad aimed his staff high into the chasm and released a fireball, banishing the darkness.
There was Creed, partially clinging to the wall, his amber eyes locked on the trio from afar. The hulking beast made no sound, not even a growl. He simply watched. It was unsettling. In a frighteningly fast burst of energy, the massive wolf then took off, scrambling over the face of the wall in search of a way across. In his wake was another of his ilk, and a relatively large one at that.
Russell.
The new pup was sticking close to its pack leader. Asher did a quick head count, noting that two of the six were now dead with one other hunting the stray watchman. Russell and Creed were clawing their way across the chasm. That left one unaccounted for.
“We should keep moving,” the ranger voiced, nodding at the mage and his fiery staff to take the lead.
Forging their way through the mine, they crossed other, smaller, bridges, and descended not one, but three lifts that had operated on a counterweight system. It was only then, in those untold depths, that they laid eyes on veins of raw Demetrium.
Asher had never seen the material before, coveted as it was by mages the world round and concealed within their wands and staffs. Seeing it now, the ranger couldn’t help but think of it as the mountain’s actual veins. It ran like rivers on a map through the stone, a deep red with the faintest of blue speckles scoring its surface.
Hadavad ran a gentle hand over the nearest vein. “It’s been centuries since I’ve seen Demetrium in this form.”
Lonan was visibly drained from their escape, but he still heard the mage. “Did he say centuries?”
“He meant years,” Asher assured, his eyes trying to pierce the shadows of the next tunnel. The ranger swore. “Merith didn’t come this way,” he groaned.
“The lifts,” Hadavad stated, catching on.
“They were waiting for us,” Asher elaborated. “They should have all been at the bottom of their shaft.” He swore again. “He lied.”
“Of course he did,” the mage said, an air of superiority about him. “It’s in his nature.”
“Who is this Merith?” Lonan questioned, able to stand up straight for the first time. “And where is he going that you would abandon the fight to reach him?” When mage and ranger said nothing the former captain sighed. “You have a lot to answer for,” he said accusingly to Asher. “Were I still captain, and we survived this hellish pit, I would throw you in irons and send you to the block.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Hadavad pressed, moving for the next tunnel. “This mine is like an ant hill—every tunnel is connected. We must continue our hunt.”
“I thought we were the ones being hunted,” Lonan pointed out.
Asher ignored him and moved to join the mage. “He could be anywhere and these mines are old; there’s likely miles of tunnels.”
“Not anywhere,” Hadavad corrected. “Down, where the Demetrium is more plentiful. That’s where Iskander will have built his lab.”
Lonan nearly stopped in his tracks and might have had the light not been with the mage. “Iskander? Who in the hells is that?” he growled. Again, his companions offered naught but silence. “No!” the man fumed, before barrelling into Asher’s side and pinning him to the wall. “I’m done with this! I want answers damn you! My men, my friends, have died in this wretched place! There is a pile of charred bodies outside my home, all of them butchered by these monsters, monsters you were supposed to slay! What. Is. Going. On?”
Hadavad looked to be on the verge of casting a spell until Asher subtly shook his head. The ranger clasped his hand over the one Lonan had pressing into his cuirass. It would have been easy to inflict pain and prise it away, but he understood the man’s frustration and would have felt the same way were he in his position.
“Easy,” he bade, his tone low and soothing enough to see the former captain back off. “Yes,” he admitted, “there’s more going on here. More than I can rightly explain with the time we have.”
“I’m a quick learner,” Lonan replied forcefully.
Asher exhaled through his nose, sparing Hadavad a glance. How could he condense hundreds of years of history and events that were beyond the understanding of a humble watchman? With time against them, however, he had to try.
“Kargon Iskander is a mage,” he began. “Was a mage. A very bad mage. A lot of his old works are somewhere down here. The wolves—they’re drawn to it; that’s why they’re here. It’s also why we’re here. Iskander’s work needs to be destroyed before Creed or Merith can get their hands on it.”
“Among those works is a precious stone capable of bringing nightmares to life,” Hadavad interjected, his voice stern. “What we do here, now, is for more than Kelp Town. The Ice Vales and beyond will suffer if our foes succeed.”
Lonan blinked. Then he blinked again. “And…” he licked his lips. “And who is Merith, exactly? I’m starting to think he isn’t a ranger.”
“He’s a Vorska,” Asher said plainly, his response a blunt stroke.
Lonan’s jaw fell open. “A… A Vorska?” He licked his lips again. “I always thought they were just a myth.”
“No more than Werewolves,” Hadavad remarked.
“Or Hell Hags,” Asher added. “Make no mistake,” he continued gravely, “it’s us who live in a world of monsters, not they who live in ours.”
“Do you actually kill any of these monsters?” Lonan retorted bitingly. “Or do you only aid their wretched existence?”
“That about catches him up,” the mage said impatiently, cutting off any potential argument. “Can we be off?”
Asher waited, letting Lonan be the one to answer the question. It seemed he required an extra moment to absorb the brief explanation, though whether he truly had remained to be seen. Either way, he nodded and looked to Hadavad to lead the way.
“Good man,” the mage affirmed, turning to leave.
Lonan didn’t move after him, his attention flitting back to Asher for a moment. “Whether your lies were for good or bad, you are not absolved. Russell Hobbs should have died in those woods. His victims should have been avenged.” That was all the man had to say, not waiting around for the ranger’s response.
Asher’s feet didn’t follow them immediately and the shadows began to engulf him. He restlessly twisted the hilt of his silvyr blade, his thoughts and emotions whirling. He knew absolution was unattainable, for all his sins, and what a long list they made. His was only to try.
There in the growing dark, for the first time in his years freed from Nightfall, did he feel content with that.
His determination crystallised, the ranger hefted his weapon and made for the light.
Chapter 33
Into The Past
Shadow Dealers - Get a mage. I’ll write that again. Get a mage.
Aptly named, these monsters crawled out of the Shadow Realm, but it is not what they are or where they came from, but what they do, that is so hellish.
A single bite from these demons will scar you with what can only be described as a void. I’ve heard mages call them portals. From these wounds, more of their wicked kin are able to claw their way into our world. These nightmarish gateways can only be closed by a mage—killing the poor soul who was bitten will not suffice.
Get a mage.
A Chronicle of Monsters: A Ranger’s Bestiary, 12th Edition, Page 421.
Nay Hodden, Ranger.
Hadavad stopped in the middle of the passage.
“What is it?” Asher asked, failing to detect any threat.
“The walls,” the mage replied, his neck craned. He indicated their surroundings “This tunnel was made by your ancestors,” he said, gesturing to Lonan. “But this cavern is natural.”
Asher stepped in beside the mage and examined the small chamber, its pointed top lost in darkness. The ranger agreed with Hadavad’s assessment, though he couldn’t fathom why it caused him to stop.
“That tunnel,” the mage continued, pointing his staff at the circular hole that bored through the adjacent wall, “was made with magic.”
Asher advanced to see for himself, though he was forced to wait until Hadavad’s flames caught up with him. The walls inside the new tunnel were smooth, too smooth for the works of ancient miners. Even the edges were rounded before they met the jagged natural stone of the cavern wall.
“We’re here,” Hadavad declared at no more than a whisper.
“You’re sure?” Lonan asked, his first words in some time.
“No tools of man forged this passage,” the mage confirmed. “Kargon Iskander himself did this.”
Asher tilted his head and inhaled the air. “Smells like…”
“Wet dog,” Lonan finished.
“Werewolves,” Hadavad concluded grimly.
As one, the trio left the natural chamber behind and entered the smooth tunnel. It curved left and right for a time, weaving through the mountain stone like a snake. They were eventually guided out by light, though not the mage’s. At fifty yards lay a flaming torch, the fire more than enough to give some shape to the arching cavern. In that light, the hanging stalactites glistened, reminding Asher of wet fangs.
“By the gods…” It was Lonan who had poured his voice and disbelief into the chamber.
Asher had already spotted Merith, seated on the cold stone beside the torch. The Vorska was cradling the watchman who had, inadvertently, fled down the correct tunnel and followed in Merith’s footsteps. Of course, the man was dead now, his throat in the clutches of the fiend’s over-extended jaws. Merith’s fangs were deep into flesh and his suckered tongue gorged on the blood, not a drop wasted.
Partially hidden in the darkness was another corpse. His limbs rested at unnatural angles and his naked body bore the lacerations of a sword. At least the damned Vorska had killed some of them, the only comfort Asher could take from the gruesome scene. The ranger subtracted one more from the pack, leaving Creed, Russell, and one last unaccounted for wolf.
Merith rolled his head back from his victim’s throat with dramatic flair, his thick tongue mopping up any blood from around his lips. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I was a little peckish after dispatching that one.”
“Monster!” Lonan raged, his sword coming up.
Asher failed to grab him. Holding him back was the only way to save his life but, fortunately for the former captain, Hadavad’s reach was made longer by his staff. The flaming end was enough to halt Lonan before his charge picked up any meaningful speed.
Merith, beaming all the while, tossed the watchman’s body aside with ease as he stood up. “I have to say, I’m impressed you made it this far; I thought you’d all be wolf food by now.”
“And this is as far as you go,” Hadavad threatened, his staff levelling out at the Vorska.
Merith narrowed his eyes, only the fiend wasn’t looking at them but between them. “I think not,” he replied smugly.
Some part of Asher’s brain realised what was about to happen and urged him into action without thought. He shoved Lonan to one side with enough strength to send him barrelling into Hadavad. As the pair were knocked one way, the ranger dived the other, creating just enough space for the unaccounted for Werewolf to leap between them.
Four sets of claws raked across the cavern floor as the beast skidded to a stop and turned back to face the trio. Asher had already turned his dive into a roll and found his feet again, a fine edge of silvyr raised in one hand. Movement beyond the wolf shifted the ranger’s attention to Merith. The Vorska was facing the wall and turning something with his hand—the arrow head! He turned it once and pushed it in until it was flush with the groove that had accepted it.
Asher wanted to watch what happened next but the wolf had determined he was to be its first victim. In a single bound it closed the gap between them, reaching for the ranger with outstretched hands and pointed claws. Asher swiped a backhand while simultaneously dropping into an evasive roll. He barely felt the keen edge of the silvyr as it sliced through the monster’s hand, separating four fingers from its grip.
