22. Friendly Fire

It was the same dream again.

She was walking down a corridor of dark stone, the high ceiling above her vanishing into shadow. It was as if she’d opened a book halfway through, with no memory of how she’d got here, but a grim certainty of where she was going. There was no straying from this path. She was simply trapped, locked into each step like a character on a stage, following the choreographed motions set out by the playwright.

Her shuffling footsteps guided her forwards, even those small echoes swallowed by the dark hallway. Her feet scraped the stone, sluggish and reluctant. Why was she moving so slowly?

It’s not me, she reminded herself. I’m in someone else’s shoes. Here, in the depths of the dream, it wasn’t a comforting thought. Who was this unfortunate soul, grimly walking on to a danger she could only sense?

She tried to falter, to stop the inexorable forward momentum, but not a muscle of this body was under her control. She was unable even to turn her head, to gain any more clues. And yet… something, not quite in her peripheral vision, but sensed nonetheless. Something new in this version of the dream.

A presence. Close enough to touch. Someone else was with her, keeping pace a little behind her left shoulder. They barely made a sound, other than the off-beat echo of their footsteps.

Were they guiding her? Or was she guiding them?

Ahead, the hallway ended, the shape of a door resolving out of the darkness. Black, smooth, and unnaturally tall, like a portal cut clean out of the void itself. It towered over her, easily twice the height of this body. An inscrutable monolith.

It stood ajar. Only slightly, but noticeable for the line of light that outlined it against the impenetrable darkness. The light was orange, vivid as flame, merciless as the wild animal gleam in the eyes of some great beast. It sent a chill down her spine, a sick dread seeping into her stomach. Every time, she cowered before this light. Every time, she was helpless to turn away from it. Helpless to do anything but proceed inevitably forward.

There was no sound behind the door. No whisper. No movement. But she knew - with her heart, if not her rational mind - what was beyond. It lay in wait: silent, patient. It would not spring out at her. She only needed to  open the door and go to it.

No! Don’t do it!

With every ounce of willpower, she strained to retain her sense of self, to push back against the dream’s inevitability. Hands refused to ball into fists. Eyes refused to close. She wanted to weep. To scream.

This isn’t me. This isn’t me. I don’t want to.

Behind her,  the echoing footfalls ceased. Her unseen companion waited patiently for her next move.

The vile glow flickered - just once - like something had shifted on the other side.

This is not me. I do not want to open the door.

Her hand rose, as if moving through honey. She reached forward. The stone was warm under her touch.

I WILL not open the door.

She pushed.

This is not me, this is not me, this is not-

She woke up with a lurch. Her heart pounded, sweat on her skin cold as a shock of icy water. Her hands clenched, knuckles whitening under lilac skin, and then relaxed. A ragged sigh escaped her lips.

It’s okay.

She was back in her bedroom, back in her body.

It wasn’t real.

She slid out of bed, the sheets crumpled by her uneasy sleep, and drifted to the window. Beyond the gauzy curtains, patterned with constellations, the sky was still dark. The crescent moon hung low, sharp as a sickle.

Not long now, she thought, drawing them shut against the ominous reminder. Not long before Ciria’s Palm. Not long before I finally meet them.

She shivered, and returned to the warmth of her blankets.

I hope they make it in time. And, whatever this dream means…

I hope I find them before it does.

—

“Snow!”

Lux heard Caela’s joyous cry as it was swept up by the frigid breeze. He turned to see his companions still picking their way across the barren mountainscape. As they’d continued their ascent, the trail had become rumpled like an unmade bed. Each travel day needed to be slower than the last, lest they turn an ankle in their haste. Worse, a fall might cost them one of their animals. Losing the mule would take half their supplies with it, and Lux didn’t dare speculate about harm befalling Valerios’ beloved steed.

At least someone was enjoying their new surroundings. Caela was squatting by the lee side of a boulder. As he hobbled over to take a look, she proffered a handful of powdery frost. Mene poked his nose into it, snorting at the cold sensation. The wolf had noticeably changed in the past few days, having exchanged his lean profile for a thick barrel of fur and belly fat. Lux was a little jealous.

“Come on, Lux, look!” Caela repeated. “Snow!”

“Sure is,” he confirmed, sweeping his gaze across the rugged scenery. Now that he was looking for it, he could see similar snowy patches all over the place. Unconsciously, he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

“We barely get any, back home in Ardelign,” Caela continued, oblivious to his shiver. “And it never stays on the ground like this. It’s magical!”

Johannes chuckled at her childlike wonder. “No, not magical. This is plain old precipitation. And from the look of things…” He examined the grey clouds overhead. “We will see more before too long.”

Valerios trotted towards them, sitting somewhat unsteadily astride Hayl.

“Must we add the weather to our list of foes?” he panted weakly. He glared accusingly at the cloud-cloaked mountain. “There can’t be anything worthwhile up here. Where, by my name, are you taking us, wizard?”

Johannes had not been a major voice in the trip planning back at the manor. That was why it had been so surprising when, a few days prior, he’d planted his finger on Shade’s map and said:

“Here. We can find rest and succour before our cloud ascent.”

Shade had been sceptical of the half-day detour, but Johannes had been insistent. The others, feeling the strain of three weeks on the road, had no argument.

Today, Johannes looked equally assured.

“Hang on a little longer, Master Valerios, and you’ll be in a warm bed. Four hours, at most, and no more than two of those through the snow.”

Caela stood up and examined the weary paladin with some concern.

“Are you feeling well, Valerios? You look pale.”

The fraction of his face visible through the furs did look increasingly wan. Caela turned to locate Shade, whose rattling cart was bringing up the rear.

“Shade, we need one of those iulipers! I think Valerios has sky-sickness.”

The assassin glanced back at his load, and shrugged. “Fresh out. Sorry. I’m sure he’ll manage.”

Caela rifled through her pack, coming up empty-handed. “Sorry,” she said to Valerios, looking apologetic. “Shade says we ate the last one.”

“Shade says a lot of things,” cut in a voice, sparkling like crystal.

Freija’s head emerged from the cartbed, wild curls haloed in frost. Victoriously, she held aloft a hand clutching two iulipers, which she presented to Shade with a glare that could cut glass.

“He’s quite good at saying things, but he’s got a terrible blind spot.”

Shade gave her an unrepentant grin.

“My mistake, bella donna, I did not count those ones. They are a little rotten.”

“Smell fine to me,” she countered sweetly. “But then I am a servant of Blessed Nature, so what do I know?”

Lux caught sight of Kazzik, watching with his arms folded. He hadn’t weighed in, content to quietly observe the proceedings unfold.

Lux reached into his own pack,  retrieving a battered-looking fruit. “Here,” he called, tossing it to Valerios. “Have mine.”

The big man caught it awkwardly, far from his usual sharp reflexes. Giving Shade a queasy glare, he nodded gratefully to Lux and rode on.

Caela looked after him, a slight frown on her concerned features. “Are you sure-” she began, turning to Lux, but he was already on his way.

—

The last stretch of their journey was hard going. The clouds hung low and dark overhead, casting down fat flakes of ashy snow that blurred the world into a wash of greys and whites. As the ground became covered in a thick layer of white, it started to feel as if they were caught between two woollen blankets.

Mercifully, Johannes’ directions were sound. Just after nightfall, they crested a ridge to find a tiny hamlet cupped in a natural bowl on the side of the mountain. There was scarcely more than a main road and a handful of timber chalets. Many of the sharply-sloping roofs had collapsed into derelict interiors and, despite the gloom, there were almost no lights to be seen. Snow lay thick across the bowl-shaped valley, muffling sound and giving the illusion that the village was sinking - slowly reclaimed by the mountain from which it had been carved.

“Oh, this place,” Shade muttered as they traipsed down the slope and into the shadow of the buildings. “Didn’t even think to stop here. It’s a ghost town.”

He had a point. Dark, empty buildings loomed on either side, their few unbroken windows blank and unblinking. Lux glanced up at a hanging sign overhead, chains too frozen even to swing. The letters ‘UL AIS TAVER’ were just about visible through the frost.

“It’s certainly… different,” Johannes mused. “But not abandoned.”

He pointed toward a building perched halfway up the far ridge. A plume of chimney smoke rose from its chimney, and an orange glow spilled from its porthole windows.

The others turned to him with questioning looks, but Johannes only offered a crafty wink.

“Please - stay back, and let me do the talking.”

The exhausted travellers huddled together and tried to look non-threatening, which wasn’t hard. They watched Johannes amble up to the front door and give it a rap, as casually as if he were calling on his neighbour for a cup of sugar. It creaked open, revealing a diminutive woman with grey hair swaddled in a headscarf and more wrinkles than face. After a few hushed words, the woman nodded, patted his arm, and gave the group a wave. Lux, unsure of how else to respond, waved back.

“This is Zila,” Johannes said. “She and her husband Sten live here. As you’ve seen, most of the town has fallen to ruin, but they remain.” An unreadable expression crossed his face. “They have very kindly offered to let us stay in their barn.”

“Nothing fancy, but it’ll keep you warm and dry,” the elderly woman added. There was something familiar about her accent, Lux thought.

Johannes reached into his pocket and made a show of placing a gold coin into her hand. The others hastened to do the same, as Zila cooed that they were far too generous. Shade held onto his coin for slightly longer than necessary, but seemed to decide that being warm and poor was preferable to being frozen and rich.

Johannes led the party a few yards back down the hill. The barn was little more than a box with a sloping roof, a black silhouette against the grey evening. Zila was right - it was nothing fancy, and certainly a step down from her cozy farmhouse. However, the aged timber looked sound, and the roof was one of the few in the town that had remained intact over countless snowfalls.

Inside, they found two unadorned storeys packed high with mismatched crates. Zila and Sten didn’t travel downhill much, it seemed, and they made their supply runs count.

Caela led an exploratory team up to the hayloft to assess the sleeping situation, while Lux, tying up the mule for the night, found himself alone with Johannes. The wizard hummed to himself as he began to unload the cart - going straight for his own bedroll first, of course. Lux helped in silence for a while, until curiosity finally got the better of him.

“How did you know this was here?” he asked.

“Hm?” Johannes blinked innocently. “Ah, yes. Zila told me where to find the barn.”

“I mean here,” Lux pressed. “The town. You said you’ve never been up this way, then suddenly you know exactly where to find the only people livin’ within a dozen miles?”

Johannes adjusted his glasses, suddenly developing a burning need to inspect a nearby barrel of salted fish. He leaned in close to the label, squinting, though Lux saw the wizard glancing back at him out of the corner of his eye.

“It was mere good fortune,” Johannes said, at last. “I simply observed that Master Shade’s shortcut was travelling close to a town I was familiar with. I thought we could use the rest, so I suggested a short detour through Mulmais.”

“Mulmais?” Lux repeated.

“Or… whatever this place is called,” Johannes said with a shrug, already turning away.. Before he could wander off, Lux reached over and grabbed him. Clutching the old man’s twiggy arm, he stared intently into the mask of feigned befuddlement.

“You’re hidin’ something,” Lux said, his voice low. “I don’t know why, but you are. Can’t you trust us?”

Johannes examined his captor with a combination of amusement and confusion.

“Of course, my boy, but trust has nothing to do with it. Everyone has secrets. Would you deny them that right?”

With a polite smile, he gently detached Lux’s loosening grip, following the others up to the hayloft and his rest. Lux could only stare after him, confused and a little hurt.

—

Lux wanted to know more about the deserted town of Mulmais, but his curiosity was smothered by the exhaustion of the day’s end. He joined his companions, lined up like sardines in the hayloft, and gave himself to a deep sleep.

This time around, he had volunteered for a late watch, so it was a long time before he was awoken. A small shape at the foot of his bedroll was illuminated by the meagre moonlight through the hayloft window. The shape spoke with Kazzik’s voice:

“Your turn.”

He departed, leaving Lux to strap on his armour, feeling around in the dark for each battered, stone-cold piece of steel. He descended the stairs to the cavernous barn floor, and moved towards the square of half-light that was the doorway.

He found Kazzik sitting knees-up on a crate outside the front door, a huge fur pelt wrapped around his bony frame.

“See anything?” Lux asked, scanning the ridge. The snow was ash-grey against darker grey clouds; it was as if they’d left even colour back downhill.

Kazzik shook his head.

“Nothing out here but us and Miss Ciria,” he replied dryly. “I think Caela kept that griffon fed, because it’s not been back to bother us since.”

His words came with plumes of frosty breath. Lux chuckled quietly, sending out a puff of his own.

“That’s Caela. She’s good at making friends.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Kazzik agreed. “Although…”

His words trailed off as he leaned forwards suddenly. Lux followed his gaze towards a point on the ridge, where two yellow points of light flickered faintly.

“Huh,” Kazzik said. “Those weren’t there before.”

At once, he was out of his fur cocoon and behind the barn door, flattening himself against the frame. Lux hastened to join him on the opposite side.

“What are they?” Lux asked in hushed tones. “Bandits?”

“Up here?” Kazzik asked. “What is there to steal? Snow?”

He peeked his head out to get another look, then turned to Lux. His white irises gleamed in the dark.

“Want to take a closer look?”

Lux did. Slipping his sword from its sheath, he carefully stepped out into the night. Kazzik followed close behind, snow crunching underfoot. They made it a few dozen yards into the field of white before the lights moved.

It was slow at first. The orange light split into three distinct motes which drifted, languid as sidewinders, down the slope towards the barn. Despite their lack of hurry, there was something terribly wrong about the movement. Perhaps it was the way the firelight refused to resolve itself into torches or lanterns. It seemed that whatever was coming towards them was shrouded in flame.

Lux summoned the warm glow of Candlelight, allowing it to run down his shivering skin and cover his eyes. He took one look at the approaching entities, and immediately doubled over, squeezing his eyes shut again. It was like staring into three suns, leaving horrid trails of floating light across his vision.

Through the pain, he heard a distant voice - the voice of his guide. For the first time, it was not measured, nearly not sane.

“Fiend! Fiend! Fiend!” it cried.

“F-fiend…” Lux repeated, dispelling his power and straightening up. The icy cold it left behind was nothing compared to the dread in his stomach.

Kazzik looked from him to the shapes, his expression deadly serious.

“Oh, shit. Those are the hellhounds.”

The shapes broke into a run, their arcing paths converging on Lux and Kazzik. As they galloped closer, Lux began to see details within each flaming mass. A bull’s body, with the squat stance of an alligator. A pair of glowing, piggy eyes were almost buried in the leathery folds of a long snout, from which jutted a pair of cutlass tusks.

“Hellhounds?!” Lux said disbelievingly, as Kazzik began frantically rifling through his black book. “You don’t mean that literally?”

“Course not,” Kazzik replied, urgency rising in his voice. “They’re only ‘hounds’ in the sense that they’re vicious scent-based hunters.  But the ‘hell’ part? That’s very literal.”

The hounds were carving through the snow, leaving trails of meltwater in their wake. Water mixed with something else, Lux realised. The devil-born creatures were slick with a black oil that flew off in burning droplets as they ran.

Lux raised his sword, willing into existence his own golden glow. It crept hesitantly up the blade, as if responding to the nervous flutter of his heart. The hounds were swallowing up the distance between them, showing no signs of slowing before impact.

Lux took a few steps back.

“Kaz…” he said nervously. The other man was still frantically searching his tome.

“Come on, come on,” Kazzik muttered. “It’s right around here somewhere.”

Forty feet. Thirty.

Finally, Kazzik stopped browsing and closed his book, one thumb keeping his place. He stared at the hounds bearing down upon him, each nearly as tall as his shoulders. Lux could hear their guttural panting, feel the heat rolling off them and melting the snow in his hair.

Twenty feet. Ten…

“Kaz!”

Kazzik turned his book to face the hounds bearing down upon him. With a resonant, alien cry, he snapped the book open.

“Elainaile!”

It was as if he’d lifted the lid on a chest full of lit fireworks. From between the pages shot a bouquet of fizzing missiles, leaving twisty octopus-arm trails as they flew. Half of the shots hit the central hound, bursting like smashed lanterns against its rough hide. The creature was thrown onto its side on a smear of burning oil.

Unfortunately, the direct hit had shielded the other targets from the worst of the blast. The rightmost hound shrugged off three hits with a squeal as it blindly clipped Kazzik, sending him to the ground. Undaunted, it wheeled around for another run.

Meanwhile, the third hound had Lux in its sights. Its deep-set, piggy eyes were locked on him, a spark burning deep within. Lux rocked onto the balls of his feet, sword held high - ready to dodge a charge.

As the infernal beast came galloping at him, he twisted, scoring a line across its flank. The hound screamed in pain, skidding past him on the melting ground in a spray of slush and blood. Lux was showered in it, hot as burning oil, and yelped in pain - a moment of distraction. That was all it took for the hound to close the gap, hooking its tusks under his breastplate and lifting him off his feet. Lux felt the wave of heat roll over him as the beast snapped and roared, trying to shake him free.

Unable to dislodge him, it only grew more enraged, tossing its head with a spray of boiling slobber. Lux wondered if his armour would begin to melt, wincing where the heated metal held him trapped. He twisted his sword to press against the beast’s back, scrabbling for leverage he just couldn’t find. The blade scraped across its rough hide, but it just wouldn’t be enough…

There was a thunderclap, and a rush of wind.

Lux crashed to the ground as the creature collapsed in an instant, oily viscera leaking from a hole in the side of its head. Dumbfounded, he leaned to inspect it, and realised he could see all the way through.

At the centre of the scene framed by the ragged exit wound was Kazzik. He was still half-lying in the snow, index finger raised, one hand stabilising the other. Like a crossbowman lining up a shot. Lux recognised the gesture: it was exactly how Kazzik had threatened Shade when they first met. There was a tarnished glow fading from the signet ring on his finger, like it had just been forged. A line of smoke emanated from his fingertip, tracing a path straight through the hole in the hound’s head. Even as he watched, the wispy thread dispersed, erasing the evidence of its own existence.

Lux bit back his confusion. There was no time for questions.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the healthier hound creeping into his blind spot, spinning to face it just in time to dodge a bone-crushing bite. He swung his golden sword wildly, keeping the blazing creature recoiling in… was that fear?

Even if the light was holding them off, it wouldn’t last for long, he knew. Every swing tired him a little more, and he was unable to stop the advancing monster from driving him back towards the barn.

Over its shoulder, Lux saw Kazzik stumbling through the snow, book once more back in hand. He aimed his ring finger as he ran, squeezing one eye closed, looking for an angle. Lux was unable to give him one, as the beast resolutely kept them both in the firing line.

Kazzik hesitated for a moment, before dropping his hand and consulting his book. Raising it in both hands, he called out again. Like before, there was a strange resonance to every unfamiliar syllable, a pitch on the edge of Lux’s hearing.

“Slavals ucu!”

The hound before Lux was driven down into the snow, as if pressed upon by a great weight. Kazzik kept the fingers on one hand splayed, while the others clutched his book with white knuckles. The hound’s limbs twitched as it fought against invisible chains.

“Now, Lux!”

Lux recognised the note of panic in Kazzik’s voice, along with that other alien harmony. He plunged his sword into the creature’s spine, leaping back from the fountain of burning oil. From far away, he heard the frenzied voice of his guide again.

“Destroy it!”

“What..?” Lux began, but Kazzik was already moving around the smouldering corpse. He was swearing under his breath, and Lux realised with a lurch why.

The first hound was gone.

From inside the barn, they heard an almighty crash, and the sound of crackling fire.

Lux felt inside himself for the source of that golden light, and turned the tap. He felt it fill him up and erupt from his shoulder blades.

“Stay down here!” he called to Kazzik, who was blinking in the sudden radiance. “I need to warn the others!”

He nodded, and ran towards the barn door, firing hand held ready.

There wasn’t a moment to lose. Lux rocketed into the sky on a trail of gold dust, and smashed through the upper window with a chorus of shattering glass. His companions were already awake, searching for the source of the earlier noise.

“What’s going on?” Caela asked frantically as Lux shook off the broken shards..

“Attack,” Lux gasped, still winded by the impact. “Monsters! Kazzik called them ‘hellhounds’.”

The mention of hell sent a jolt through the party, who scrambled from their beds. As they gathered themselves together, Lux rushed to the trapdoor. He hauled it open with a belch of black smoke. The stairs, along with a large part of the barn, were already aflame. Lux caught sight of a large shadow crashing across his field of view, followed by another of Kazzik’s thunderclaps.

“Kaz!” he called down.

The tiefling’s voice was carried up with the first licks of flame. “Get them out of there!” Kazzik coughed. There was another shot, another crash. “The whole place is going up!”

The others looked at the jagged-edged window - their only exit from the rising inferno.

Caela sprang into action, throwing as many of her belongings into her pack as she could before tossing it out of the window. The others hurried to follow her example, sending bedrolls, clothes and food down into the snow.

Kicking free shards of glass, Shade was first to go, clambering onto the windowsill and down the exterior. Then Johannes, muttering a few words and pressing his orb to his boots. When he stepped out, he simply stepped onto the wall. Freija, in a flurry of petals, abandoned her form for the shape of a small monkey, scrambling onto Johannes’ shoulders. She clutched onto the wizard’s hair as he hurried down the wall as if it were a street and he were late for an appointment.

The hayloft was rapidly filling with smoke, and a sharp crack from below suggested that the floor wouldn’t be supported for long. There came another pair of thunderclaps, and an ear-splitting deathrattle.

Valerios moved towards the hatch, kicking it fully open.

“Val, you can’t!” Lux protested, immediately realising his intention. Valerios had thrown his arms and armour to safety, but there was one more thing he needed to rescue.

“I must retrieve Hayl!” he bellowed, wrapping his head in his cloak. “Leave me!”

He upended a water skin, soaking his bound head, and charged down into the inferno.

Caela looked helplessly at Mene, whose fur was standing on end. Thinking quickly, if not thoroughly, Lux slipped his hands around the wolf’s belly. The two of them tumbled from the window, Lux’s wings straining against the extra weight. They crashed down hard, the snow fortunately breaking their fall.

Caela scrambled after them, racing clear of the blaze. Kazzik was already outside, wisps of smoke rising from his fairly singed clothing. He gave a crooked smile at their reactions.

“Don’t worry. We’re built fireproof.”

They joined Johannes, Shade and a newly-humanoid Freija at the edge of the blaze - a picture of mismatched, shivering dishevelment, straight out of bed. Lux turned to look back at the fire, the barn doors hanging open. Behind the flames, it was hard to see any movement inside. No sign of Valerios or Hayl. Surely…

Then, mercifully, they heard the drumroll of hooves. On a cloud of smoke, Valerios burst through the doorway, astride his white steed. Both were smeared with soot and wild-eyed, but Lux felt a wave of relief.

It was short-lived, though - snuffed as soon as his attention returned to the situation. The barn was a bonfire, flames hungrily licking their way up to the roof. Beyond, Lux could see lamps being lit in the farmhouse.

“We have to do something!” he appealed to the others. “All those supplies are going to go up in smoke!”

Freija stepped forwards, rolling up sleeves that weren’t there.

“Leave it to me, lovelies!” she said airily, kneeling in the snow and instantly soaking her thin dress. She glanced back over her shoulder. “You might want to back off!”

Lux took a step back, uncertain. The ground pulsed beneath his feet. As Freija pressed her palms to the frozen earth, he began to wonder if his senses were playing tricks on him. Defying gravity and the bitter wind, snowflakes began to rise from the ground, whisking towards Freija.  He turned to the others, reading his own bewilderment on their faces. As one, they raced to create distance, a flurry of snow and wind beginning to whirl around Freija.

There was another quake. In an instant, all the snow around them vapourised, streaming in rivulets into the air. As the streams converged around Freija, they took on the shapes of horned beasts, with shaggy beards of icy spray. Freija thrust her hands forwards as she was swallowed by the stampede. The horde of watery animal-spirits crashed down upon the barn with a ferocious rending of wood and metal.

The burning building was torn to splinters, the flames swallowed whole. They watched as the wave rolled down hill, picking up speed, and losing none as it shredded through the abandoned village. For a few seconds, their world was filled with the sounds of roiling water and cracking wood, until the wave finally dashed itself against the far edge of the bowl. 

The last of the thundering waves subsided. Mulmais was left terribly silent.

22. Teamwork >>