Bladeshire 21

By David C. Daoust

The ghoul had lurched out into the torchlight but moments before… Some sort of undead thing. There was no part of Khadory that did not want to lash out at the monstrosity. The undead creature that simply should not be. The ghoul lunged and Khadory gave ground. The boy swung his axe to buy him a moment. The action inadvertently rammed the torch, in his other hand, up into the ceiling. Dirt rained down around him.

The flame was extinguished.

Blinded by darkness, Khadory’s heart raced. He dropped low, crouching, trying to listen for its shuffling. The creature’s claws scraped against the walls of the burrow… Khadory rolled forward, silently trying to evade it. He could not tell if the fiend was blinded as well… It came from the darkness; It was surely more accustomed to it than he.

Suddenly the ghoul barreled into him. Khadory slashed again with his axe, fluid sprayed over his face and chest. It must be its blood… he thought. The creature was weak, but the darkness did not give so much as a whisp of a clue as to the truth of the matter.

Khadory lost track of where he was in relation with Chantilles, he could still feel the presence of the creature in front of him. Rather than slashing dangerously with his axe, he hammered the extinguished torch down like a club, beating it back.

Something cold caressed his brow, something chilling. The idea that he could win was forced from his mind. He did not know where the doubt came from, some sort of presence within his mind. It showed him the fiend with a wicked smile, trying not to laugh as he beat it, feebly, with the torch.

Khadory was losing ground. Khadory never had the ground. Desperation gripped him, he raised the axe, again dirt came raining down as he struck the ceiling, ready to chop into the fiend…

“Wait,” Chantilles voice came from the darkness, “Don’t… Don’t kill it.”

Khadory could not figure out why she would say such a thing. He was doing all he could to force the creature back… it was just grinning at him; he could feel the mirth… if not witness it himself.

A small light appeared, pushing back the darkness.

Khadory felt the doubtful thoughts retreat with the shadows.

The ghoul was forced back into the corner of the burrow, green blood dripping from a massive wound in its chest… thick, oozing, more like puss. The creature was practically cowering.

Both axe and torch were covered in the green fluid… as were the boy’s arms and chest. The truth was clear, Khadory had wounded the ghoul, then beat it back with the torch. The thought of it being unaffected by his assault, faded from his mind as quickly as it had appeared.

It was a weak pitiful thing, snarling at him.

Khadory turned to find Chantilles standing nearby, a twisted staff in one hand. The staff, with the head of a snail, was the source of the light. He recognized the item immediately. It was the very staff they had left in the woods. The very staff they both were unwilling to touch.

He turned back, turning his attention to the ghoul, mind still on the staff. “Can we kill it?” Khadory asked trying not to reveal that the staff’s very presence had revealed her as ‘not-Chantilles.’ “I mean, it’s already dead…” Its claws were long and wicked, but the monster was pitiful as he stood over it discussing what should be done with it.

“I can trap it,” Chantilles stepped forward. “We should not free it from its Domain.”

If she had any clue that the staff had tipped him off, she did not care. Moments before he thought he may have an advantage, his mind puzzled how to play into the charade. Whatever the entity was, it had to know Chantilles would not speak this way.

“Who are you?” Khadory asked.

“Someone who just saved you from the darkness… and possibly permanent madness,” not-Chantilles answered haughtily. “There are more threats here than just a shrew and a ghoul…” She let the idea set for a moment before explaining. “A demon lurks here.”

Khadory took the information in stride, more worried about Chantilles than anything else. He knew in the past Chantilles true-self was safe the whole time… he listened to the entity that possessed his friend as though it did not belong on the list with the other three threats.

“The shrew fled almost immediately upon the flame arriving in its sanctuary,” not-Chantilles began to work down the list, “While this ghoul– found its newly bloated larder threatened. It probably had not had this much to eat in ages. Of course, it had to wait until the victims were dead to feast.”

“And the demon?” Khadory pressed.

“Such a thing is bound to the darkness. If I had not cast this cantrip,” she gestured with the magically glowing staff, “the demon would have wormed further into your mind…”

Khadory now knew what the presence, convincing him his attacks were futile, had been.

“Why save the ghoul…?” he asked.

“Killing this fiend will empower my enemies,” not-Chantilles explained.

“Who are these enemies?”

“The same as yours…” she turned to him and conceded slightly, “Well, once upon a time.” She paused as though to give him a chance to guess before declaring, “Vampire Lords.”