Darkefyre (On Hold)

Seven

We walked briskly for a while, until there was no hope of either of our clothes being dry for some time. Broken and battered houses passed us, silence and the mercenary beside me was my only companion. I watched him rather vehemently for any sign he might betray his word, but all I saw was the demeanour of a sure, and confident man, almost bordering on cocky. His shoulders were up slightly, guarded, but his face was clear if not rain soaked. His flat, wide hand clasped the pommel of his plain sword.

"Not worried I might gut you where you stand?" I laughed.

"You would have done it already, if that were the case." He replied.

"A man so sure of the universe is blind to fates cruel hand." I warned. He stiffened but we continued on until we stopped in front of a weathered gate. It looked like an unused outhouse. The wood was hanging like threads, the paint was nonexistent and the smell. Gods, it smelt like carrion had taken a shit and never really left. The door or what was left of it was gripping tightly to the hinges and only the bottom half touched the worn cobbles. The only sign that nothing was as it seemed.

Many feet had traipsed over the threshold, but how many had come back out again I wondered. The small step was bowed concave in the middle, and a dark stain littered the side. I gulped back my fear and stood up to my full height.

"You first," I shoved him.

Dagdvar stumbled forward, and so did the door. Vines covered the floor like a rambling green tattoo. The floor was a living thing, as small spindly leaves fluttered across it. Huge wilted roses stood like flowery wraiths on the sides. Remnants of wooden beds were smashed to smithereens. I warily toed a neck of a broken and jagged bottle.

I halted when Dagdvar did. He bent down to the floor, his sullen cloak grazed my feet and I stepped back. His calloused hands swept away more leaves until a bare patch appeared, a small copper ring sat in a small lake of rainwater. He lifted it almost reverently, and shook off the excess water. The secret slab opened to reveal a dark, and cramped stairway leading down into the depths of darkness.

"If I'm to descend into hell with you, you might as well lead the way." I poked him again. He didn't even hesitate and I didn't realise why until it was too late. The slab above my head closed shut. Darkness filled my vision, but not for long.

"Fire come to me."

I held out my barren hand, and an orb filled the space adjacent to it with a burning blue light. Dagdvar's shadow danced unbidden along the green lichen riddled walls. I shuddered to think how long this corridor to the underworld had been here. Long enough to smell like mouldy everything, yet occupied often enough for there to be no cobwebs. We traversed the length of the staircase and came out into a small, but rather quaint cavern. Rough hewn columns held up the earthen and beamed ceiling. Small kegs and barrels sat in several corners. I didn't look too closely as, fine black powder slipped from a crack onto the floor from one bulging barrel.

Dagdvar had his back to me as I bent and took a good pinch of it off the floor. I sniffed it and recoiled. Definitely flammable powder. Who and what, and most importantly why crossed my mind, but I pushed them all aside and shoved it into my pocket, as Dagdvar turned from lighting the last torch mounted on the wall behind him. That wicked smile of his reached all the way to his sly, dark eyes. He drew the sword fully out its sheath, from his side and levelled it at me.

"Turn around." I felt the blade's edge kiss the middle of my spine, but it didn't go in. I stared blankly at the wall to wall boxes filled to bursting point with aged scrolls. Some were almost white, others were cream and covered with dirt. I walked forward as I felt Dagdvar advance behind me. I walked slowly. He stepped up to my side once we both reached the wall. The smell of parchment filled my nose, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He walked up to a box closest to him on the floor, and picked an opened scroll from the top. The blood red seal was cracked straight down the middle, corrupting the crest. I could not make out what was on it, but I did briefly spy two inverted triangles aside something in the middle. The crest reminded me of something I had seen before. Try as I might, I just could not recall from where. I shook it off, as Dagdvar handed it to me.

"You wanted evidence and an answer. Take it." He shoved it into my shaking hands. He advanced at me with his sword high and proud pointed at my chest. I glared at him.

"Don't think you won't leave here alive though. We've had our orders." He muttered.

"We-" then it suddenly hit me, we were not down here alone. Several shrouded figures parted from the walls and stepped into the light. Hoods covered all of their faces in shadow. Their garb all denoted they were mercenaries like Dagdvar. Rough leather covered their shoulders in slanted, flat pauldrons. Belts were slung low across their hips, and not one hand did not hold a wicked sword, bathed in golden fire light.

My heart raced, and I closed my eyes. So stupid. So naive. I thought about summoning a sword to my side, but discarded it when I realised it would take too much of my energy. I had almost depleted all of it when I had turned myself into wind, but I could feel dregs of it coming back to me like a dripping tap that fills an empty pail. My palms turned sweaty and started to stick. I looked down and black covered my hand. I looked up at Dagdvar and summoned death into my gaze. I slipped the missive into my other pocket without him noticing.

"Don't you see? It's all of you that are not leaving here alive." I glowered. Dagdvar stepped forward, like I knew he would, and that's when I flung the dry powder from my pocket in a sweeping line across the floor in front of me. I summoned the darkness inside of myself. Hate, fear, death and a wall of blistering black fire sprung up from the ground. I stepped backwards and fled up the stairs.

I did not look back. Not even when the wails of burning men assaulted my ears, and the smell of acrid flesh filled my nostrils. I did not even hesitate when my hand pushed the stone door open above me and rain filled my eyes. I did not weep. I did not even flinch as the sound of crying rock splintering apart filled the air with a loud, ground shaking boom.Did not stop until I found myself back in the square of the market and the sound of night time revellers greeted me. I pushed myself forward, forgetting who I was as anger, hot as a blacksmith's forge boiled in my veins. I blanked out all emotion and shirked at the glimmer of humanity that was left. I felt feral and wild, and not of this world. It felt great, and that frightened me.

I became human again when short grass poked through the soles of my slippers and the loving touch of light kissed my cheek.

"Gods forgive me. Galanh absolve me." I cried up at the moon gazing right back at me.

A small, wispy cloud passed over her shining countenance and I could have sworn for the smallest of moments, time stopped and a bone chilling laughter mocked me on the wind.