Chapter Eight: The Fiends of the Temple
The place was quiet except for the occasional rustle of Dimas' leather pants as he moved. A few windows, tall and thin with pointed tops, let in bars of light that striped the stone floor of the hallway, but it was still very dark. Dimas found himself walking slowly, dragging his feet forward instead of stepping, measuring the smoothness and slipperiness of the tiles, one hand on the wall beside him, running along it with him for balance, against the sharp ends of broken tiles that had chipped from water running from the windows down the walls. He would once have run his hand along them more gently, letting his fingers into the crevices for grip and avoiding the broken places, but he couldn't feel very well anymore, the calluses on his fingers barely letting him register the pressure, but none of his cuts.
Large stone pillars lined the hall; a broken one was his destination. The walls didn't always attach to the roof in these old buildings, so he hoped to look over one into the large main room, which had once been used for sacrifices, and see if the princess and their runaway knight were inside.
He scrambled to the top, clung to one sharp edge when he almost fell, then got all the way up, standing unsteadily on the uneven surface of the top, the smashed stone crumbling in places under his feet rolling down one sloping edge to join the pile of stone already beside it, once part of the tall, whitish pillar.
He drew his dagger and bashed the hilt against the top of the wall until it broke through, like it was thin ceramic. He pushed other parts of it out until he came to the real wall, a full three fingers below the roof. Peering through, he made out a world of blackness tinted blue. He thought he saw something of a different shade, a pale grey or white, that could have been clothes, but since it was still he wasn't sure. Something else was there, black and shiny and reflecting a little bit of light from the window, but it was small and Dimas quickly disregarded it.
He climbed down slowly though he was tempted to jump – he was afraid to make too much noise. Then he began his way back. He walked down the middle of the hallway, arms spread for balance, but when he stepped into a dip in the ground where the tile had come out, he fell anyway. He struck the side of the loose tile with his knee, splitting it open, and pushing the tile with a grating sound which echoed through the empty space.
He sucked in his breath and ran forward, ignoring the sharp feeling in his knee, until he found the door. Pushing against it, he found it stiff, as though it were locked. With a frustrated sigh, he took a deep breath, backed up, and rammed it with his shoulder. The heavy iron door stayed put, while his shoulder jarred with pain.
"Damnit. Felix! Rhea! Open the –" he stopped suddenly at the sound of something sliding wetly across the ground. He looked over his shoulder and saw a person coming towards him. He nearly spoke to them, but instinct made him hold back, a cold feeling moving down his neck. Then they came into the light, a bar of it streaming through a window, faint in the evening sunlight, and he was faced with a head dark and bloated, wet holes for the eyes and mouth, and eyeless. But the head turned towards him anyway, 'seeing' him with sightless sockets, and then others appeared behind it, massing slowly. It walked towards him with bare feet, reached for him with hands in very familiar gloves.
He turned and began pounding on the door.
They knew something was wrong when the heavy iron door began rocking on its hinges, flakes of rust drifting down. Dimas' voice was indistinct, but obviously distressed, and the door would no longer open.
Felix felt a fit of panic coming on. But that was no good – he could be no help to anybody if he didn't keep calm. And good, too, that he thought that to himself, because in a state almost too calm, he thought of an idea. "Loki, heat this."
The small, furry creature's hand waved fire toward the blade Felix indicated almost absent-mindedly, worrying near the door with Rhea, who was attempting to wedge the doors apart with the handle of her mallet, screaming, "It's okay, Dimas! We're here!"
Felix pushed her aside and rammed the heated end of the sword into the lock. All plant matter and cobwebs burned away, and he moved the blade back and forth until he heard things snap, and pieces of metal fell out, then finally pulled on the handle with all his weight on it, then Rhea's and Loki's too, as they held his waist and backed up… and the handle fell off. They flew backward and hit the ground.
Felix ran forward, got his hand mostly in the hole where the handle had been and threw the door open. Then he fell back with a scream.
A mass of cloth and rotten flesh was piled on top of someone – Dimas – who was nearly unrecognisable. Their fingers grasped at a torn knee, attracted by the blood. Dimas turned towards the light as they began tearing the thick wool of his sweater. "Felix! Loki! Help –" And they couldn't see his face anymore. Giant, hairy spiders swarmed.
"Dimas!" Rhea shrieked.
"No!" Felix grabbed his sword from the ground and descended on them – this wasn't how this would end, he wasn't going to let anyone die that way, he wasn't going to panic… he hacked methodically, limbs rolling away, still twitching. Then a clawed hand struck him. And he started to feel dizzy.
His knees struck the ground hard, but he couldn't seem to muster the energy to stand. The panic had nearly set in when his vision was taken over by the sight of bright magic, swirling red flames and penetrating blue-white light, overtake the hoard. The bright light finished the few zombies left, passing through Dimas' limp form harmlessly, and then Rhea and Loki were there to fret, and Lothar was trying to lift Felix to his feet…
Dimas was left outside while Lothar joined them, foraging through the Temple. Dimas had been sent to scout the place out first, but he could tell them little except that there was something in the main room, and that they should go there. "You're our top priority right now," Rhea told him.
The rooms they found were often locked, drawn on with an odd symbol of curving lines and small dashes, although they did find a hat in one open room, and Rhea found a chest filled with things that were donated or sacrificed to the old demons many years ago, old clothes that were mostly rotted away, things they had no use for. She finally pulled out a few bottles. "Here, this is good for poisons, it says. It might still be good. Maybe you should try it. Those spiders got you good." Rhea handed the bottle to Felix, whose arms were covered in large red spots.
"What about Dimas?"
"I can take care of him," she said. Then with a sigh, added, "Besides, we need someone to be in good health, and I don't think a little potion will do him much good right now. You can still walk, for now."
"You are not coming in with us, that is final." Felix picked at his food angrily, frustrated at Dimas' stubbornness.
"But I feel better now," the thief protested. His face was pale under his tan; his eyes looked sunk deep into sockets so dark they nearly looked bruised, the lids rimmed red; there was no colour to his lips. His whole face shone in the firelight with a cold sweat. "Don't leave me out 'ere alone."
"We could leave someone here with you."
"No, it's better if we don't split up." He frowned at Felix, with a face that would have been intimidating if it didn't look so ill.
"Fine, who wants to babysit Dimas?" Lothar said sharply.
"Don't be an ass," Rhea snapped back. "I'll do it. Though maybe you should."
Felix interjected before the spat got out of hand. "Hey, we're all in this together, right guys? There's no 'babysitting,' just watching each other's backs. There's no need to argue. But your magic would be kind of useful," he told her.
"I could heal you after," she suggested. "Or, better, we'll bring Dimas in, just not in the main hall."
"Fine. But you're not coming in the main room with us," Felix added, pointing a warning finger Dimas' way. "And you're not doing any fighting, if it comes to that. We can't afford having you get hurt. Any more, that is."
Dimas grinned tiredly, shook his head, and fell back where he was to stare at the stars. "Whatever."
Garland sat at a table, staring angrily at the girl before him. She wore a light grey dress, dirty from sitting on the floor, her legs tucked up under her chin. She faced away from him, shielding her face with a sheet of her green hair. He had a temper that she couldn't remember from the previous five years of his service, and it hurt her to look at him, to see that he was not really Garland anymore. Something had changed.
He took another swig of the wine in his goblet as the door burst inwards. Turning, he saw a small group of people walking towards him.
"You had better have the king with you."
They stopped just before the altar, where he stood.
Felix felt uneasy, seeing such a man wearing the familiar gold armour and red uniform of his own previous job, that all his friends had worn, although it made him feel better that it was in different condition – with no blacksmiths to care for it, Garland had used the old-fashioned means of caring for his chainmail and plate armour by greasing it, and it turned it black, or dark gold where it had dried and begun to fade. Felix drew his sword, knowing there would be no negotiations. "We're not here to bargain with you. We're here to take Sara back."
Behind him, Felix heard the others reposition themselves to his sides, shift their movements for the battle, Lothar positioning his feet for balance, a small knife slip out of its sheath, and Rhea's hammer tapping against the ground in anticipation.
Garland smiled, as though he had a chance. "Fine. I'll take on all of you."
He moved lightning-fast, brought his sword up and lunged it forward. Felix barely had time to parry the blow before Garland was on another one, aiming for his face, and Felix deflected that one too, backing up this time. Their swords twisted back and forth, but Felix could only block. He never got the upper hand, he never got a chance to take any swings of his own. He had nearly forgotten the others were there until a foot in a familiar, Melmondan-style sandal kicked the horned helmet on the chin and knocked Garland off balance. Garland turned to Lothar, slashed, and cut right through his shirt, leaving a long line on his chest and a stain on his shirt that moved downwards, got bigger and bigger. Lothar backed up, leaned against a pillar for balance and clutched at his abdomen, where the worst damage was.
It wasn't much, but it was what Felix needed. He swung sideways and his blade connected with Garland's arm, where there was a break in his greaves for bending his elbow, then continued through it, and Garland's voice rose in a roar as his left arm fell to the ground with his shield. Felix stood rooted to the spot, stared at the bloody smear on his blade, then at Garland's arm. He'd never actually seriously injured anyone before, let alone killed someone. He felt a little sick, a nauseous feeling settling in his stomach as he realized what he was doing. But there was no time. He was moving forward this time, he was the one doing the attacking, and Garland had to block with a sword not meant for such a thing.
Garland took a chance swing behind him, towards a dirty, young girl in the corner. Felix jumped, though he knew he wouldn't get there in time to save her.
Dimas appeared out of the shadows and smacked at Garland's sword with his own. It did nothing of impact, but it deflected that blow, and caught the former knight off guard. Then Dimas collapsed in a fit of strained breathing on an odd-looking purple-black crystal.
Loki's fire started at Garland's heels, so lightly that the man didn't feel it at first, then it ran up his pant leg, and consumed him in its flames. He dropped his sword, fell back with a scream, clawing at the metal of his armour, heating up and burning him.
Felix, out of pity, took aim, and plunged his sword tip through a slit in the visor of Garland's helmet.
The young girl's crying became increasingly louder, despite Dimas' attempts at comfort: hugging her, and picking her up and rocking her, weakly stroking her hair. Then he handed her to Rhea just before he fainted into Felix's arms.
