Chapter 3: The Catacombs

Trevor leaned back against the window.

So, it was pretty clear that the Speakers weren't going to leave Gresit, even for their own safety.

He still couldn't resist the crack. 'Well, you're Speakers. Words are what you do.'

'You know of us?' the young one had asked with narrowed eyes, which had led Trevor to wandering over to the window in the first place.

'My family's always been on good terms with the Speakers, although my father once got into a fight with one.'

'True Speakers do not fight.'

With a wry smile, Trevor turned to him. 'When he tried to convince the Speaker to have your oral history transcribed on paper.'

The boy looked surprised at that, while the Elder chuckled good-naturedly.

'Yes,' he said. 'We are quite protective of our ways. History is a living thing. Paper is dead. Would you like something to eat?'

'No. I'm more interested in what you're doing in Gresit. You said something about one of you being missing...?'

'Yes,' the Elder said, 'my grandchild.'

Ah. That made things make a lot more sense. 'So you're not inclined to leave until your grandchild is returned?'

The Elder bowed his head and walked forward. He sat down. 'There is not a structure left in Gresit. No answers. No aid. If you know Speakers, then you know we can't turn away from those in need. That is why we are here.'

'And your grandchild?' Trevor asked.

'In Speaker history, there is an old story. A legend, probably.'

'I like stories,' Trevor remarked.

'The story says that the Saviour sleeps under Gresit. A great hero sleeps until he is needed; until there is a darkness upon the land.'

'Yeah, I heard that one. The Sleeping Soldier. It's a local legend. Sounds weirdly convenient to me anyhow.' Trevor propped a hand on his hip. 'I suppose you sent your grandchild down to try and find him?'

'Exactly how much do you know about us, sir?' the Elder asked.

'I'm a Belmont.' Trevor moved his cloak so they could see the crest on his breast, earning stunned looks. 'So I know you're a nomadic people who gather knowledge, memorise it, carry it in complete spoken histories with you.' He turned away from them. 'I also know you gather hidden knowledge and have practitioners of magic in your tribes.'

'A Belmont?' The young man sounded like he couldn't believe it. 'I thought your family had vanished.'

Trevor turned back around. 'If vanished is the polite way of saying exiled, hated, and burned our ancestral home.'

'Then you know something of magic,' the Speaker Elder said.

'My father taught me, yes, but I was never overly proficient at it.'

The Elder nodded. 'And you know that just because we found a story in our past, it doesn't mean it originated there. The wisest and cleverest of our magicians know that time is not absolute. That it is possible to hear stories from the future.'

'So you think there's someone who can save the city asleep under it. And you sent your grandchild to try and find them.' He frowned.

'Yes. They went into the catacombs under the mausoleum west of the church. Has not returned.'

'Isn't there a head man in Gresit you could go to?'

'He died in the first horde attack. Our searches have been unsuccessful.' The Elder looked up at him. 'So, what are your plans?'

Trevor folded his arms. 'I am a Belmont. I came here to kill the demons. But, seeing as they're not going to be back until nightfall, I suppose I can kill the day by getting your missing Speaker. But once I come back with them, dead or alive, will you please leave? Wait outside the city, give your aid to survivors when the night horde finally just rips through this place?'

'Why would you do that?' the boy asked.

Trevor didn't answer. 'They're going to come for you soon; the "good" people. It's gonna be a night run. They were talking about it in the marketplace this morning.'

'I don't think you answered my question.'

Trevor stepped forward and looked him right in the eye. 'I know what it's like to be persecuted by your own country for the accident of your birth.' He looked back at the Elder. 'If I find your grandchild, will you leave this city before nightfall?'

The Elder dropped his head. 'If that is the condition of your recovering them, yes.'

Trevor cracked his fingers. He didn't fully believe them, but he still walked to the door and snatched an apple from a Speaker as he went. 'I'm leaving now. Don't go walkabouts looking for people to give support to. Stay right here.'

'Belmont,' the Elder said before he could walk out. 'It is not dying that frightens us. It's living without ever having done our best.'

Trevor opened the door. 'I don't care.'

He walked out.

The entrance point was easy to find.

A hole in the wall that he climbed up to and then jumped through. Then he slid down. He came to a stop on top of a staircase. Walking down, he grabbed a torch and sniffed it. Lifting the torch, he said, 'Fresh oil.' It would light easily. He drew a blade out.

Pressing the torch against the stone, he struck the stone with the blade. Sure enough, the torch lit right up. Trevor stepped back with his newly-lit torch and used it to look around. 'Anybody home? He then noticed something odd. There was a kind of metal tubing. Curious, he walked over and knocked on it. Down here, he'd expect the metal to be cold.

'Warm. That's weird.' There wasn't any sunlight to warm it.

He was distracted, however, when the entire room shook. He drew his short sword and walked forward cautiously. He descended the next flight of stairs. 'I can hear you,' he called into the darkness. 'I'm armed, and a lot less happy than you are. So you want to stay well out of my way.'

He stepped off the staircase and the floor immediately gave way under his feet. Trevor gave an alarmed yell but he still managed to come to a perfect landing. He lifted his head with a smirk. 'Reflexes like a cat.'

Then the second floor gave way.

He hit some kind of metal piping on his way down and landed very hard on his backside.

Despite his aching body, he pushed himself up. Stumbling out of the debris, he looked around the dark chamber he'd found himself in. There were odd shapes on the tops of the pillars holding the room open. But Trevor had lost his torch, so he couldn't see a damn thing. That was until they clicked, one after the other, and began generating bright lights on their own.

Looking around, Trevor saw several statues. Most of them were in pieces. The only exception to that was the one right in the middle of the hallway. Trevor walked over. The figure had their hands upraised and their mouth open in a silent scream. The robes were familiar. Trevor walked over and carefully tapped the hood.

'Either someone left a statue of a Speaker down here or...' A loud bang cut him off and Trevor spun around.

The massive, hulking figure of a demon began to make its way out of the depths of the chamber and into the light. As it did so, however, several of the light devices shattered, launching the place back into darkness. But Trevor could still see the damned thing and he knew exactly what it was.

Well...shit. 'Cyclops.' The eye glowed purple. The beam fired and Trevor dodged. The beam followed him as he manoeuvred away from it. He dived behind one of the pillars. 'Stone Eye Cyclops! Right out of the family Beastiary! God shits in my dinner once again.'

He dodged further back as the Cyclops rounded the corner. Trevor used the pillars as cover as he looked around, determinedly trying to find an opening. He had to get a blade into that eye in order to kill it, but the only thing he could really launch himself off of would be the petrified Speaker.

Suddenly, the Cyclops caught him, grabbing him around the head and shoulders. For one moment, Trevor became startlingly aware of his mortality. Then the Cyclops threw him. His entire body shuddered from the impact to the floor and he forcing himself up through the spinning head and aching pains.

But the Cyclops fired at him again and adrenalin got him moving. Speaker probably wouldn't appreciate this, but they were literally all he had. Trevor grabbed his dagger and manoeuvred from pillar to pillar. He then spun the dagger up into the air. As the Cyclops, effectively distracted, looked at it, Trevor ran across and vaulted up. The Speaker was used as a spring-board and he threw up to his short sword.

Timing himself, Trevor kicked it. The short sword flew across and the blade buried itself deep in the Cyclops's eye.

Trevor landed in a crouch.

The Cyclops dropped dead.

The force of its collapse caused the Speaker to begin to tip. They were still alive in there, and it'd be better if he brought back a living grandchild. Acting reflexively, Trevor shot forward. He caught the Speaker moments before the person in question returned to flesh. As the small body fell into his arms, the hood fell back and Trevor found himself surprised.

She's a girl.

The girl opened her eyes and sucked in a breath. Then she looked up at him. She went to say something, but the natural consequences of being turned to stone and then being turned back caught up to her. She rolled out of her arms and lost her lunch on the stone floor beneath her. Trevor stood up and waited her out.

'Granddaughter.' He turned and walked over to fetch his blade. 'Yeah, heard they do that.'

'What?' The girl straightened up and looked at him.

Trevor cleaned off the blade as he explained. 'Dress the girls like boys.'

The girl stood up. 'Yes. Safer for travelling. What happened?'

Trevor pointed to the corpse. 'You walked into the Cyclops. Turns you to stone with his eyeball and feeds on your terror while you're trapped in your own body.'

'Did...' She frowned at him. 'Did you climb on me?'

Trevor shrugged. 'You were the only thing around tall enough.'

'That was rude.' She folded her arms.

Trevor shrugged. 'Yeah, well, demon hunting isn't exactly a polite practice.'

'Who are you anyway?' she demanded.

'Trevor Belmont,' he said. 'I met your grandfather. He wouldn't leave the city until he had your body. I came to recover your remains so that the Speakers would get to safety.'

'But the Sleeping Warrior is still down here,' she protested.

'Yeah, well, your grandfather thinks you're dead. And your people are going to be beset by a mob if you don't get out of town before dusk.' Trevor shrugged. 'If he does exist – and I seriously doubt it – he's not going anywhere. Your people think you're dead. The least you can do is set that old man's mind to rest.'

The girl frowned. 'He thinks I'm dead...?'

'He wasn't much wrong,' Trevor said. 'Killing a Cyclops is the only way to restore a victim. You're lucky I came into town. Now, come on.'

'Very well.'

He moved off.

'I'm Sypha Belnades,' she said as she started following him.

Trevor just nodded.