Summoner: Origins - Book 0

Chapter 14

Arcturus was shoved to the floor, his nose thudding into the floor boards. The door slammed and the room was cast in pitch darkness as the portal disappeared, its power source gone with Rook.

Salty blood gushed from Arcturus's nose and on to his lips and chin as he struggled to get upright, ripping at his weakened bonds with all the strength he could muster. As the dirk sliced through the mana web, they dissolved into nothingness – no evidence to prove what Charles had done. They had planned his murder well.

As quietly as possible, Arcturus shuffled back and began to work on Sacharissa's bonds, all the while impressing the need for her silence with his mind. She barely breathed, even when he sliced her in his blind rush to get her free. Every moment mattered, for the gossamer still glowed, just enough for the Wendigo to track in the darkness.

He could hear it now, its claws slipping and scraping on the floorboards. Arcturus could remember the way its hooked claws had dug into the earth for purchase when it had battled the Minotaur. It was a wild animal, completely new to such a smooth, hard surface. He would use this to his advantage.

The final thread was sliced away and Arcturus helped Sacharissa to her feet, now in total darkness. The Wendigo was snorting lungs-full of air, hunting for them by scent alone. For the first time, he was glad of the stink of burning wood that polluted the air. It would help keep them alive.

First, Arcturus tried the door. It was locked, but he could feel the keyhole, so large that he could stick two fingers through it. The lock was rough and simple, a relic of the old times the castle had been built in. If he was lucky, a bit of jimmying with the dirk might get the door open.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Arcturus saw that there was dim light from beneath the door, enough to see Sacharissa's eyes. Instinctively, he re-formed their connection. Her black and white vision would not make much difference in the gloom of the room; hearing and sound would be key.

The scratch of claws against the wood was sickening, like nails against a chalkboard. But it was nothing compared to the smell that the Wendigo gave off. It was like rotting carrion, sweet and ripe in the air. Arcturus felt as if it coated the back of his throat, so strongly did it reek of death. In his mind's eyes, he could tell the demon was creeping up to him cautiously. Arcturus supposed that it must have not recognized his scent, since humans did not enter the ether. It was scared of the unknown – yet it approached nonetheless.

"Get back!" Arcturus yelled, slamming the dirk through the keyhole, twisting and scraping at the mechanism within.

He heard the skitter of claws as the Wendigo leaped away, like a startled bird. Even so, it was but a moment before he heard the slow creep once again.

Strangely, it did not seem to be approaching him this time, or at least, not that he could hear. Instead, the Wendigo appeared to be heading toward the lockers on the other side of the room. As Arcturus honed in on them, he could scent a trace of something he hadn't before: a mix of bath soap, sweat and leather. Perhaps both he and the Wendigo could smell the aprons within, and the creature had decided they were easier prey.

Arcturus didn't care, as long as it was moving away from him. He could feel the lock in the door clicking with every rattle of his dirk, until finally a dull clunk told him that the latch had popped on the other side. With a last wrench, he dragged the door open, tumbling through with Sacharissa just behind him.

He slammed the door closed, threw the latch back in place and pressed his back against it.

The Wendigo rammed against the door, its predatory instincts telling it to chase that which ran away. The door shuddered but stayed firm against the demon's onslaught. Perhaps it had been made thick and sturdy for that very reason.