Bladeshire 18

By David C. Daoust

Khadory landed hard. An array of injuries enveloped him with the darkness, not just from the perilous slide down the shaft, striking the earth below, itself, left its mark. He hit hard enough to force consciousness from him.

Khadory awoke with fresh scrapes to his back. Scrapes which stung with every movement. He took a moment to see what other pain may suddenly erupt. Back and side bruised… he was pretty sure nothing was broken. The groan that escaped his lips was answered by a sudden shift of movement to his right. It reminded him what was down there with him. His mind dumped taking inventory of his injuries and instead forced him to ready himself. He was up, back on his feet, listening to the darkened surroundings.

The light from the hole above, barely lit the area. He searched for the axe. The sharp-edged tool should have been right there; he should have practically landed on it. He could not find it. The ladder lay broken, stretching from the shadows, he could see where it was wrenched apart. The lashed together structure was useless in its current state.

Khadory was too focused on the source of the movement to his right, to worry about the scuffle he heard from up top… Something suddenly clobbered him from above, something with a torch.

Khadory crashed back to the ground; new bruises added to the list.

It was Chantilles, he realized from the bottom of the pile. Khadory had, successfully, broken the girls fall. Once again dazed, he glanced back to find the girl looking terrified.

Khadory noted she looked as apprehensive of what was above, as what might be within the den itself. He could only wonder what may have happened up there that sent the young girl falling down the hole.

The light of the flame flickered from where it fell to the ground. It cast light into new crevices, broadening his field of view. This time he definitely saw something move…

Chantilles must have seen it as well, she regained her feet quickly. By doing so, freed him from her entanglement. She grabbed the torch from where it fell—just lifting it, cast the light further into the surroundings.

They stayed silent, listening so intently, neither so much as breathed.

Nothing.

Khadory stood back up as well, the glint of steel led him to his axe. It must have been pushed away by the collapsing ladder. He doubted the beast had the presence of mind to strip him of his weapon. To hide it, as he had considered when he found it missing. He gripped the axe tightly in his hand. He glanced back at the girl, a bit more brazen now that he was armed, he asked in a low whisper, “What happened?”

“Old’Hindal’s pig,” the girl started with a raspy urgency, “It charged me.” Glancing up terrified, she added, “Abe– he’s still up there…”

Khadory didn’t get the full picture from the little bit of information offered up. He was pretty sure the mastiff could handle a pig though. He took the torch from the scared young girl and walked further into the den.

The underground area proved much larger than he had imagined. The pair could stand fully erect… it was not what he had expected. He expected a narrow den. He expected to be crawling through a snug burrow. Instead, they found what reminded him of a root cellar, though so wide, its outer edges faded into darkness. Eruptions from the ceiling were paced evenly throughout this deep dark cellar…piles of debris lay beneath each protrusion from above. He could not quite make out what they were.

“I did not expect all this,” Chantilles practically voiced his very thoughts as she brushed past him and led the way further in. “This is some old burial site… like a graveyard. It must be old for it to be buried so deep. Llewelynn Native’s from before the first Vitrucians?” she guessed, “Before the gods cursed us… But look,” she gestured to the nearest protrusion, “all these… old caskets, all empty, dug out from below… not even bones within? Something dug it out… something spent years digging this all out…”

Khadory was not sure what she was going on about, she seemed excited, but his senses were all attuned for some sign of the beast; a vile creature, with a paralytic bite, that was surely somewhere within. He barely even noted how her attitude had shifted. Khadory found that the evenly paced protrusions were in fact shattered caskets, just as she described. Yanked down enough to be emptied. Some beyond were fully pulled to the floor… splintered open. Bits of wood and debris lay strewn about the soft earth.

Why would a shrew dig out old corpses? Maybe to gnaw on the bones. He supposed such an answer may be plausible. He dismissed it all– first and foremost, he was not here for old graveyards… he was here for Oldman Hindal.

Khadory circled the torch wide in the other direction, Chantilles was forced to retreat from her exploration of the seemingly ancient graveyard just to stay within the light. They moved together, found the creatures den, proper. A small hollowed out burrow within the greater ‘cellar.’ This was a bit more like what he had expected. Within the burrow he found lumps…

Khadory lifted the torch high, casting the darkness from the den.

The lumps turned out to be a half dozen men, all strewn within. Khadory was shocked to find so many men. The village elders– all the men that had set out to chop up that old pine stump, the day before. Not just Hindal, he thought to himself. The shrew must have captured them all. Stored them away for future meals.

Khadory checked each man in turn. Each man, while effected by the creature’s bite, still lived.  He knew that such creatures fed constantly. If these men were not yet eaten, that meant the Irontooth Shrew was surely hungry. He turned abruptly, axe in hand as a new shadow appeared… A snarl ripped through the silence.