Chapter 6

Charlie stared ahead of him, wondering what to do next. He clutched the crystal at his neck, realizing that while Azaroth could contact him, he had no idea how to contact her.

But before he could figure it out, a huge, hairy, thing came at him, wielding what looked like an ax in one hand, and dragging a bloody something behind it.

Again, Charlie had little time to react. He dodged the ax on the downswing, blocking the enemy's blade with Liar's Laugh, using his free hand to shove the beast's arm away, and immediately returned the blow with a downward swing into the thing's shoulder. Wailing, the beast retreated, and Charlie flew forward, stabbing it through the heart. With a cry, it fell to its knees, then flat on its face, dead.

Charlie looked it over and nearly threw up. It was clearly once human in form, but now the clothes it wore were tattered and ruined, drenched in dried blood, and it was impossible to tell if it belonged to the beast or someone else. And it was quite clear, in any event, what ruined the clothes: the thing was no longer human, only because he or she had endured a werewolf-like process. The head was somewhere in between a beast and a man's, cracked in some places, reforming in others, as if the process took months instead of one night under a full moon. Its teeth were growing and reshaping in an endlessly painful process, forming large canines that looked like bone-white knives. Large patches of gray fur grew on the claw-like hands, bandaged and re-bandaged numerous times. The legs were deformed and warped into wolf-like shapes, with claws poking through the destroyed shoes. Imagine the shape of a faun's legs, but instead of hooves, paws grew from bound feet. The legs were completely covered in fur, and in places bundles of hair were stuck together with dried blood. As for the thing it had been dragging, it was a net, with an unidentifiable meat pile the size of a human in it.

The crystal pulsed once more, and Azaroth's voice came through. This is what happens to the damned, she explained. They become beasts over time, and slowly lose their minds and turn on each other. When slaughtered, they revert to their true form, only for the process to repeat itself.

And, sure enough, the hair and blood fell away from the beast, and rather quickly the muscles and bones reformed to reveal a human woman, mumbling mindlessly to herself as she crawled along the filthy ground.

She'll regain her sanity, only to lose it once more, said Azaroth.

"That truly is a hellish fate," said Charlie. "I hope Susan isn't…"

She has time before the Nightmare can infect her fully, Azaroth reassured. As of now, very little—if anything—has changed in her. But hurry, as Time no longer stands still. The longer you take, the more the Nightmare infects both of you.

"Where to next?" asked Charlie as he inspected his sword. Liar's Laugh had begun to absorb the blood, and the sword seemingly acted as a magnet to the sticky red liquid, preventing Charlie from being soaked. The laugh rang out faintly.

Up to the street and turn right, said Azaroth. You'll see a tower in the distance. That is where Susan is being held. Be forewarned: Tash knows you're here. He will do everything in his power to stop you.

"Understood," said Charlie. He moved forward carefully with Liar's Laugh at the ready.

It was windy up in the tower. The moon was so large and bright against the crimson sky that the woman standing watch at the tower window was almost blinded. Sometimes, a cloud would obscure part of it, but that would only help for so long. Eventually, her eyes adjusted, and it was no longer an issue, but the deep crimson glow the sky cast could be droll to the eyes, like looking at a brightly colored light for too long.

Susan had not been here for very long, but already she was feeling the effects of the Nightmare. Her teeth were beginning to ache, no doubt slowly reforming into fangs. Her senses were beginning to sharpen as well, and it was only a matter of time before she became helpless to the Nightmare; but not yet. If she was in this tower, she could defend herself, and soon she'd pick here moment to escape.

Her planning was interrupted when she spotted a shadowy flicker of movement between the buildings below, thanks to her years of archery training in Narnia and the Nightmare's early effects on her senses. Another followed nearby, and then another, and another, until there were about five in all. They were beasts, no doubt, and Susan suspected these ones were not quite insane yet, and so were still capable of some form of tactics. These ones had apparently taken to stealth, sneaking between buildings, using insane ones as a distraction, quick movements, and the like. They knew she was on the lookout, but Susan also knew that she had the advantage, as the only way to approach the tower was head-on and through the town.

She saw them again, setting the dumb ones to doing hysterical dances and howling, meant to distract her (unsuccessfully; she had long grown used to the noises) as they ran around the block. She then caught another one, moving away from the rest and doing ridiculous gymnastics to haul itself to the rooftop of a faraway building. This Lone One raised a rifle and took careful aim, but Susan was quicker as she pulled her own trigger. With the look of a practiced marksman, she looked out from behind the barrel of her rifle to see the Lone One fall. "Good plan," Susan said to herself, then proceeded to make quick work of the others. "But not good enough."

After they were disposed of, another flicker of movement caught her eye. She trained her rifle on it, only for a raven to perch on edge of the silver bayonet, blocking her view of the target. She tried to shoo it away, swatting at it with her hands. "Go away, you!" she shouted at it. But the raven just looked at her with strange eyes, unmoving. "Go on! Get! You'll get me killed!" Somehow, it kept dodging her hands, as if the barrel become just long enough by some magic, or her arms just short enough, not unlike the sensation that happens upon one's eyes when looking down a hallway and realizing, with some fright, how long it seemed to stretch.

"Look carefully," the bird advised. Susan had heard that voice before, one she thought she forgot long ago.

"Are you…?"

"Courage, dear heart," it said, then in a flutter of feathers it flew away.

Susan grabbed one of the pitch black feathers and stuffed it into her pocket. She then heeded the raven's advice and strained her eyes and looked closer, much closer, at this new figure. It certainly didn't move like any of the beasts she encountered. She fired a warning shot at its foot to see what it would do, and to her shock it looked up, raised its arms as if to say, "what was that for?", and shouted something she couldn't quite catch.

But she recognized his voice at once.

Now was the time to leave, else they'd both be stuck up here. Susan slung the rifle over her shoulder, walked out the door, and began making her way down the numerous ladders and steps to the Nightmare's floor.

"Charlie, you stupid little half-wit…" she smiled, "who gave you permission to rescue me, Love?"