Chapter Twelve:
Collapse
Shadowbrook:
In addition to her existing anxieties over the supernatural threats to the town, Anne Marie Piaget was currently not a happy lady in a more domestic regard. Given that the rain had cleared before dawn, and the Grotesques had not yet reappeared, she had turned up for her Sunday school duties, as per usual – only to hear from the headteacher, Ambrose Birch, that the town elders had ordered the school to be closed until the crisis was over.
"In the meantime, the Reverend has instructed the children to report to the church for his Sunday sermon – whilst their fathers help with the defenses of the town," he informed her. Birch ran his fingers through his almost non-existent hair, as he appraised her on the doorstep of the otherwise-deserted school. "Given the circumstances, Miss Piaget… Why don't you join me for a drink in my office? Brandy or a good wine, perhaps? I have heard the militia's declaration of the emergency, as they marched around the town last night – as have most people by now. If we are truly going to be struck down by winged devils or werewolves, perhaps we can appreciate each other's company a little better, before…"
"Non! I do n-" Anne Marie caught herself, and took a deep breath. "Pardon, Monsieur Birch, but I am teetotal. And I wish to speak to ze Reverend Harding. Perhaps he could do with my assistance there."
She caught the narrowed eyes and flash of anger from Birch – but Anne Marie turned and walked away along the street with her satchel of books, before he could stop her. The headteacher was a little too lecherous for her liking. The recent memory of Major Bruckner was bad enough – and now he had truly become a monster now, according to Victor Danforth.
But at the church, her heart sank. Not only did Reverend Harding reject her assistance with the children, he was in one of his ranting moods as she tried to divert him from his attentions with a bonfire that he had set up in the yard next to the church – and into which the mothers of the school children were now dropping fuel for the fire.
To her horror, Anne Marie saw that the fuel was coming in the form of books. She spied a book of lore – a tome that she had previously seen on sale at the Blacksmiths, and which she had been considered buying, if only she had enough money. But also, the mothers were now – encouraged by Harding – burning books on law, science, and literature.
She screamed, and flung herself at the other women, in an effort to stop them. Harding himself pulled her back.
"Unhand me, Reverend! Zees books…"
" 'Tis witchcraft! The sins of this town have brought this evil upon us, Miss Piaget! And the innocent will no longer be taught things that make them sway from the just teachings of the Bible."
"Aye! Be away with you, teacher!" one mother cried out, pushing her away from both Harding and the bonfire. "My son has told me of your lessons. You do not believe that God created the world in a week, he said! What other devilry have you been feeding their minds with, aye?"
"Ze discoveries of the English geologist, William Smith… And ze French naturalist, Comte du Buffon!" Anne Marie protested. "What zey have found is at odds with ze Bible telling us that the world was made by the almighty in one week. An' ze Earth… It is likely to be far older than we have been taught!"
"Those men are liars! Charlatans. There is ultimately only one law – and that is the word of God!" Harding fumed. He turned to the ladies of the town, his eyes wide with what Anne Marie feared could be madness. "Cast this wretch out of here, for the greater good!"
Several of the other townswomen muttered angrily amongst themselves. Pushing the schoolteacher out of the yard, Anne Marie fell back. As she tried to pick herself up again, she was kicked by the women as they were whipped further into hysteria by Harding's rants.
And there was nobody present to help her. All of the children were presently in the church.
Eventually, she managed to get up and run away with her satchel – thankful that she had managed to tear it out of the grasp of the crazed crowd.
Running back to the safety of her home, Anne Marie slammed the front door behind her, and broke down in sobs as she slid down the wooden frame…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Windmill:
Upon hearing the crash from below, Lucy Hanbrook suddenly woke up, startled.
For a few moments, she shook to dispel her mental fog – and chastised herself for falling asleep when she had been the one left on watch duty.
The post-dawn light filled the floor of her surroundings. The rain of the night had given way to calmness and sunshine. And she fancied she could even hear, through the window, the cawing of crows.
That suggested that the Gargoyle and its Grotesque minions had disappeared – at least for now.
She, Karl, and Thomas were all still on the bin floor level of the windmill, just above the broken entrance doors – and Lucy blushed to discover that she had collapsed with fatigue upon Karl's chest, and that his hand was rested upon her hair…
Oh, well. I see that we managed to keep each other warm whilst the fire ran out of fuel, then…, she told herself. Smiling, she brushed Karl's brown hair and then his beard – something that she had never done before. It felt good – and she hoped that they would live to see another morning when she could awake next to Karl like this…
The noise came again. Twisting round to look down into the first floor chamber, Lucy gave a cry of terror. Immediately, she began to shake Karl awake. Before long, he came to.
"Urr… Wh-who? Miss Palfreyman…" Karl's eyes fluttered open. "No – can't be… She's d-"
The thought crossed Lucy's mind that Karl's green eyes were quite lovely. She had rarely been this close up to them…
"It's me, Lucy! That thing has broken out of the basement!" She clutched at his jacket.
Karl snapped himself to attention, and immediately shifted himself to peer through the gap at the top of the wooden stairs. He saw the last remains of the busted doors to the cellar fall upon the floor as the thin withering tentacles lashed out at the air above, as if seeking warm meat to ensnare…
"Blast! What happened?"
"I'm sorry, Karl. I fell asleep on my watch! I've just been woken up by that…horror…breaking out from below!" Lucy admitted.
"Rouse Thomas!" he instructed her, as Karl gathered his weapons. He glanced across at the stairs leading to the upper levels, and around them. No other enemies in sight, it seemed. He checked on the windows too. Nothing hostile outside to be seen.
When Thomas had fully awoken, Karl glanced again at the demon-like entity below them, before turning to his friends.
"Check yourselves over, both of you! Any change with the Gargoyle's curse on you?"
Thomas patted his right arm. "It's spread to my elbow, dammit!"
"Your turn, Lucy. We'll both look away." Karl nodded to Thomas – and the men turned round whilst Miss Hanbrook reluctantly checked her left leg.
"Oh, dear god. Noooo….!" She sobbed.
As Karl and Thomas caught a glimpse of the gray-colored skin that had almost reached her knee – before Lucy lowered her skirts.
Karl winced at his mistiming. "Sorry."
"I'm not," Thomas muttered, managing a smile. "Might be the last time that I'll…" He trailed off at the sight of Karl's stern gaze.
"We all need to get out of here when we can – so that you pair can get to Doctor Manning and be cured of this curse!" Karl urged them. "At present, it looks like the only barrier in our way is that beast…"
"…which whispered to me in the dark, before you rescued me from the cellar." Lucy shuddered. Then a memory came to her. "Wait! The voices… They told me that my parents had lied to me!"
"They did," Thomas declared, under his breath.
"What!?"
"Thomas! This is not the time fo-," Karl bristled.
"Listen, matey. I've got a bad feeling about this…"
In spite of herself, Lucy smiled. It was noticed by Thomas. "What?" he asked.
"You talk as if you are Selena. She often talks of having bad feelings," she observed.
Thomas shrugged. "Oh, well. I do sometimes pick up on how other people talk. But I managed to change her mind, after we started kissing…"
"What!?" Lucy exclaimed.
"Thomas! Stick to the point, if you are going to say anything!" Karl admonished his friend.
"Alright… I've got a bad feeling about our odds of getting' out o' here. And I think the good lady 'ere should know, whilst we got the chance," retorted Thomas.
"Know about what?" Lucy gaze alternated between the swarthy courier and her gallant soldier friend.
Karl huffed. "Alright. Tell Lucy what you read in that safe, Thomas…"
Minutes later, Thomas had finished his tale. Lucy was sat on the floor, with her knees drawn up to her chest as she pressed her hands against her cheeks.
"I'm twenty two…!? Why…why have mother and father lied about my age?" Lucy sobbed once more. She raised her tear-stained face, and dabbed it with her handkerchief.
"There must be something about the circumstances of your birth that they wanted to be kept secret," Karl mused, stroking his beard with his thumb. He slowly knelt down to Lucy, and held out his arms to her – trying to image how he would feel if he had suddenly discovered that his life had been shortened by a year because a lie had been exposed…
After a pause, Lucy sniffed and pressed herself against him. He rocked her gently. Then, when she had recovered, Lucy rose – and Karl stood up with her.
Thomas turned round from the window. "Still clear out there!" he announced.
"Then, if we're all ready, we had better try to break out of here now. Are we agreed?" Karl asked them.
"Yeah," Thomas answered, snapping the loaded barrel of his pistol back into place with his good hand.
Lucy held her own pistol ready and mustered a smile. "Let's take charge of our own destinies!" she declared.
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Karl led the way down the ladder, and assisted the stiff-legged Lucy down to the first floor – before he helped Thomas in turn. Then the three of them attacked the withering tentacles at Karl's signal – collectively using a pitchfork, pistol shot, dagger, and saber. Together, they managed to wound and drive the thing back into the cellar – thus clearing the way for the trio of heroes to finally exit the windmill. Karl held onto Lucy as she limped - whilst Thomas kept just behind, keeping his good eye open for any hidden dangers.
"So Heidi took Boreas. What about Euros?" Thomas pointed out, as they hurried as quickly as they could to the nearest clump of bushes.
"Let's find out…" Karl whistled. After a few moments, he did so again. His heart pounded with concern over the horse, hoping that he was still alive. And if not, the journey to Shadowbrook would be a slower, more perilous one…
Eventually, there was a snort which made Karl sigh with relief. Then the white horse emerged from the grouping of trees around a pond, a short distance away. His tail swishing from side to side, Euros trotted across to them.
"We can't all go on him, surely?" Lucy objected.
"You two are the ones with that 'stone touch' from that wretched Gargoyle. You pair should get on," Karl urged them. "I'll follow on foo-"
"Dammit!" Thomas raised his voice. "Incoming targets from the trees to the east!"
The party of three all looked to the woodland there. Three winged figures had appeared on the ground between the trunks – the blue-white Gargoyle in the centre, and a Grotesque on either side of it. At a cry from the Gargoyle, the Grotesques began hopping forward. Their wings began to flap, as they gathered momentum to fly…
"Stand back… I'll handle this!" Karl barked. "Thomas, Lucy. Get onto Euros, and get to the Doctor's office. Now! No arguments."
"Well. You know how fast I can ride…" Thomas grinned.
Karl assisted Thomas onto the horse's back. The courier tucked his weapons away and held the reins with his left hand.
"Karl…!" Lucy managed to squeeze his wrist, as he helped her on behind Thomas. She slipped one arm around the rider, whilst holding her pistol with the other.
"Godspeed!" Karl urged them. He and Thomas exchanged solemn nods – and then the courier lightly kicked his heels into Euros. The horse trotted, and then gathered pace, as Thomas steered him in the direction of the road leading south-west towards Shadowbrook. Meanwhile, Karl drew his saber out again, and turned to face the Grotesques now flying towards him.
But as they clashed, he caught a glimpse of the Gargoyle flying off in the direction of the Shadowbrook road, and swiftly gaining on his fleeing friends…
"No! You monster! Face me!" Karl roared at it.
The Grotesques leered and hissed at him as they took it in turns to dive at him and swipe their claws, as though mocking the soldier whilst they kept him occupied.
Karl's saber lashed out, just missing the first of the fast, dodging fiends…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Euros was pushed as fast as he could go by Thomas. The partially-flooded, wooded landscape on either side of the road seemed to flash by, Lucy thought, as she held on tight. Although she was an experienced horse rider herself, she had never raced as fast as this before. But then, the stakes had never been so high whilst on horseback in all of her previous rides…
At first, the rush of the morning air – fresh after the night's heavy rain – came as a welcome relief after the hours of being trapped in the windmill, and Lucy's heart soared with delight. But then the heavy pounding of wings in the air behind and above them reached her ears.
Next she felt a pressure piercing her mind – a voice trying to enter her head…
"No!" Lucy screamed. With her arm firmly wrapped around Thomas, she twisted her head round, and spied their inhuman pursuer.
"I Will Complete My Claim Over My Chosen Ones… You Will Not Defy Me! You Will Both Become My Latest Minions! Shadowbrook Will Be Ours…," the Gargoyle rasped.
"Git out of my head!" Thomas hollered, glancing up at the Gargoyle, which was now changing direction, even as Lucy aimed her pistol at it. She fired – but just missed.
"I can't track it quickly enough!" she wailed, looking around. "And now I've lost of it, Thomas!"
"Jus' keep your eyes open, missy. And listen to me!" he shot back, as they raced on. "It's just struck me where these things might be hiding! When I was on top of the windmill, looking out, I noticed that…"
Lucy listened to Thomas as he completed his account. "Oooh!" she exclaimed. "And none of us looked and noticed when we went by the place! But does that mean…?"
"…that one of your elders has been harboring these creatures, missy? I've got a bad feeling. It's telling me that I'm rig-"
"Watch out!" Lucy screamed, as she saw the vast shadow suddenly come over them from the break in-between the two plots of woodland to their left.
An instant later, the Gargoyle collided with them, as its gliding attack from the side knocked Euros and his passengers off the road.
The world spun around Lucy. Moments later, she landed in a rain-soaked bush, which arrested her momentum. Groaning, she allowed her dizziness to fully subside, before she got up upon her feet. Her pistol was close by…
Dragging her stiff leg, Lucy gritted her teeth and forced herself towards it.
I will not…stop now! Have to push myself on…, she told herself.
There was a bounding motion behind her – and then the Gargoyle had caught up, tackling her into the long grass around them, with Lucy ending face-up. The Gargoyle hissed in triumph. Raising its taloned left hand, which now glowed with an unearthly blue light, it clamped its claws onto the right side of Lucy's chest – and applied its stone touch there. Lucy screamed as agony seized her – then her scream trailed off into a hoarse whisper as her right lung failed to work properly. She panted.
"You Will Not Scream Now, Little One… Soon Your Beauty Will Be Preserved Forever, And You Will Serve Me Well As The Newest Of My Living Statues…" The Gargoyle leered.
Then Thomas hollered at the top of his voice as he ran towards them. His pistol fired, punching a hole through the Gargoyle's wing. It screamed in rage, and turned to face the courier, who dropped his pistol and pulled out his dagger to meet the monster's attack.
"Git out o' here, Lucy Hanbrook! Run!" Thomas yelled across to her, in the moment before he and the Gargoyle clashed furiously.
Grabbing her fired pistol, Lucy pulled herself up and limped for the nearby thick bushes and trees. She gasped and pushed herself on – not daring to look back. Not even when Thomas's screams finally ended…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Karl's back crashed into the sturdy wooden panels of the windmill, as he was sent spinning from the roundhouse punch from the second Grotesque. It hissed and prepared to charge at him…
Feeling as though he had been swept aside, Karl dropped to the firm ground before him – and then rolled clear and swung upwards with the saber that he had just seized hold of again. The point sank deep into its intended target.
There was a screech, a spray of dark blood – and then the creature smacked into the windmill. With a wailing last cry, it collapsed, twitched violently in its death spasms, and then fell still.
Karl tried to remove his saber – only to find that it was now broken in his desperate avoidance of the monster's final strike. Sighing and wiping his flushed face, Karl glanced again at the first of the Grotesques, which had crashed into the tower of the windmill when he had managed to shoot it in the head whilst in mid-flight. The impact had finished it off.
Thomas and Lucy…!
Grateful for his fast reflexes, as well as to whatever forces were looking after him, Karl considered himself fortunate to have only received minor wounds so far at the windmill. He took a few moments to gather his breath and strength – and then he was running along the road that Euros had taken, hoping that he wasn't too late…
Minutes later, he realized that he was.
The Gargoyle was nowhere to be seen. There was a trail of blue-colored blood which led into the woodland to the left of the road – but Karl turned his attention to the opposite side, where the handiwork of the villain was all too apparent.
First of all, he knelt down by the remains of Euros. Karl stifled a sob, and reached out to close the eyes of the dried-out husk. He muttered a goodbye to his animal friend – wanting to say more, but having no time as he stood and jogged over to Thomas.
Only Thomas Harrow was now sprawled on his back on the ground, with his arms raised to defend himself, his screaming face frozen in anguish – set as it was in stone. His whole body, including his courier's uniform, had been turned into gray rock.
Karl took in a deep breath, and then slowly released it, in order to control his boiling anger. He bowed his head – unable to tear himself away from the man-turned-statue that was inanimate. For now.
He checked his pistol.
"I thought so… No bullets left to free you from your impending slavery to that…devil!" Karl roared, before repeatedly bashing his pistol against the face of the Thomas-statue. He was unable to damage it, and the soldier collapsed at the base of his cursed friend, sobbing. Unable to bring himself to say another goodbye…
"Helllppp…!"
As the faint cry reached Karl's ears against the backdrop of the sifting wind, he gradually recovered from his turmoil. Pulling himself up, Karl forced himself to listen. And to study the tracks on the ground. Someone had limped across through the long grass and made it into the woods…
He found her a little later, propped up against a tree. Lucy's clothes were torn and wet from her escape from the scene of the attack. She shivered and pointed the pistol towards Karl – then her wide eyes recognized him.
"It's empty…," she whispered. "No bullets left. Just felt good to…have something in my hands to whack…that monster with, if it came for me here." Then Lucy dropped the pistol and collapsed. Karl rushed over to her.
"Easy… I've got you," he reassured Lucy.
One of her hands brushed against the tears that were on his face. "Thomas…?" she whispered.
"He's been turned into stone! And I've got nothing here to smash him down before he becomes a living statue. Dammit!"
"He saved my life… Thomas shot the Gargoyle in the wing – and it turned upon him, allowing me to get away…" Lucy's lips flickered into a brief smile. "He managed to be a gallant man at the very end."
"Good for him… So that's why it's gone to ground – instead of tracking you down," Karl mused. "Come on! Whilst our enemy is recovering, we've got to get you cured… Wait, your dress has been clawed at!"
"It touched me again, Karl. On my chest. I can't breathe properly," Lucy wheezed. "I thought my lucky nature would help me and Thomas get to town… But not this time… I don't want to die, Karl! Please do not let me die… I'm only…twenty two…" Her lips fluttered into what might have been a smile.
"No! I've just lost Thomas and Euros. I've not losing you, Lucy!" Karl vowed. He bent down and carefully lifted her up, feeling her to be heavier from the latest addition to her curse of stone. Then, getting his bearings, Karl turned and headed back towards the dry road with his precious load as he cradled her…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Abandoned Keep:
"Come on, man! We're losing her!" Inspector Jonathan Cooke shouted over his shoulder at the stumbling Abbots, who was trailing behind him. Impatiently, Cooke turned his attention forwards again – just in time to see a flash of copper-red hair, as Katarina Clark disappeared over a ridge in the woods.
"She must be heading for the abandoned military keep, sir!" Abbots yelled back, one hand still pressed against where the female outlaw had clobbered him with a small rock. There would be a bruise – but it would be nothing compared to what the injuries he would give her, Abbots silently seethed. If the uptight Inspector hadn't been around, anyway…
"So that must be the base camp of the outlaws…" Cooke paused, allowing Abbots to catch up. "You know the way to it from here?"
Abbots nodded, and winced – feeling his head swim from the motion.
"All right, Abbots. I can see that you're not quite steady. Let's link arms. You lead on…"
As they did so, Cooke reflected on the activity of the morning so far. Daybreak had revealed that the storm of the previous night had given way to clear skies. Doctor Manning was still recovering from the concussion he had been left with after Blanchard's attack upon him in the olde woods. Employing Joshua Carnaby the coachman, they had left Shadowbrook as a group after breakfast – once Miss Clark had gotten the goodbye kiss with her lover, the Scarlet Shadow, that she had insisted upon.
And so with Cooke riding his horse and acting as their escort, the coachman had transported the groggy Doctor Manning, Miss Clark, and the two militia guards watching over them. They had been making good progress. Then events had gone awry when the female outlaw had requested that she answer the call of nature…
The comment had alarmed Cooke – and he had asked if she had been scratched or bitten by Major Bruckner or the werewolf-like creatures…
Luckily, she had meant a more basic human need. Only it had been a ruse, for once inside the edge of the woods running alongside the road, Katarina had clobbered her escort – Abbots – when he had finally turned away from the sight of the outlaw pulling down her pants.
And now… Leaving the other militia guard to stay with Doctor Manning and the coachman, Cooke and Abbots halted as they reached the edge of the woods that bordered the northern side of the ruins before them. Cooke felt a shiver run down his spine. Even in the clear light of this late October day, there was something about the abandoned fortress that did not seem…right. The air was silent apart from the sudden cawing and flight of the occasional raven. Then Cooke put his finger upon it. There was no sight or sound of any human activity from the half-crumbled building. Even if the outlaws were adept at hiding themselves from passers-by, he could not sense any feeling of being watched. Could not even glimpse – or smell - a whiff of smoke from any campfire.
"I'll be alright now, sir," Abbots declared, his moustache twitching with agitation.
"Very well, Abbots. Arm yourself." Cooke released him, and prepared his pistol – as did the militia man. "Despite the mess the building's in, I can't see a way in…"
"Front door's on the opposite side, sir," Abbots informed him.
"Very well. I'll walk along the west side – you cover the east. We'll meet at the front entrance," Cooke instructed.
The Inspector's heart pounded as he crept alongside the west wall of the ruins. He glanced at the parapet, and at the occasional hollow space that once held a window – but saw no one. Then as he reached the far corner…
The wailing scream made his heart lurch. Gathering his wits, Cooke raced to catch up with Abbots – who was sprinting towards him from his corner. Meeting in the centre, they slammed past the closed wooden front double doors there and raced past the gatehouse to emerge in the courtyard. Pausing for a moment, Cooke glimpsed a flicker of movement in one of the open doorways – and he led Abbots along a corridor that was lit only by the sunlight shining through the gaps in the broken ceiling. Ahead he saw Katarina raising up and backing away from something on the floor…
"Stay right there, Miss Clark! Hands up where we can see them," Cooke snapped to her.
"It ain't me you need to worry about…," Katarina sobbed as she complied with the order. She continued to look down, as though mesmerized by the grisly mess…
Oh, lord…
Cooke took in the sight of the bearded man sprawled at the base of a wall smeared with what had to be drying blood. His throat had been torn out – and something had also made a meal of his internal organs, working from the stomach in.
Abbots hissed and walked forwards. Roughly yanking Katarina away from the corpse, he spat in her face. "Forget him! He's a goner! Now let's find your medic, thief. And then we can get out o' here before whatever got your ma-"
Katarina forced him off her as she yelled "This is Merrick. He is our medic! Or rather…he was!"
"Darn it…" Cooke rasped, as he looked around – watching out for any further signs of trouble. "Did he have any supplies?"
"Should be something in his room…" Katarina took a deep breath and led the two men deeper into the fortress. In one of the less-ruined rooms, the trio came across a couple of camp beds and an assortment of potion jars and boxes containing herbs. Before long, Cooke had helped Katarina to find the wolfsbane and belladonna samples that they needed.
"Good! Let's go…," Cooke barked at his companions. He held the box – whilst Katarina had two jars in her hands.
"I've heard nobody about," Katarina muttered as she looked along the corridor they had come along. "Where are the rest of my friends?"
"Let's leave before we find out, you scum…," Abbots growled, leveling his pistol at her.
Rolling her eyes, Katarina followed Cooke back along the twisting passageways towards the courtyard. Only as they approached the broken doorway, two thin, stooped wolf men stepped out sideways on the courtyard side of the frame. Their lupine silhouettes now blocked off half of the sunlight – but the party could still smell the gore on the exposed teeth of the one in front as he growled menacingly at them and stepped into the corridor. He was still wearing the rags of his red-colored pants over his dark fur and he also bore earrings in both lupine ears.
"No…! It's Kelner! The cook!" Katarina gasped.
"How can you tell!?" Cooke snapped back as he gingerly retreated from the slowly-advancing Feral Kin. His gun hand shook from his rising terror.
"Those earrings are unique to him! Darn it! Major Bruckner and the Shadow Witch have come here…"
"…and spread their infection and influence," Cooke concluded. "Now – how to evade him?"
"The kitchen area! There's a blocked off exit that leads to a stairwell…," Katarina suggested as she turned and ran. "Follow me!"
But when they reached the chamber used as the kitchen area, Katarina and the men halted, upon seeing the small, ginger-furred Feral Kin stirring from slumber as it sniffed the air. Next to it were the mangled, half-eaten bodies of more outlaws. Cooke's eyebrow lifted in wonder, as he spied the teats below the furred belly of the latest lupine monster…
Katarina made a croaking noise. "Ja-Jasmine…?"
The Feral Kin rose upon her rear paws and smiled, tilting her head as if in recognition of her name. Raising her muzzle to the air, she let loose a howl – which was answered by her kindred brothers. Then, Jasmine gazed at the intruders to her territory and hungrily licked her lips, as she prepared to attack…
"To hell with it!" Abbots raised his pistol and fired directly at the forehead of the Feral Kin. She instantly dropped down, dead.
Katarina screamed her rage – but stopped abruptly as Cooke yelled at her. In the corridor outside, the wolf men were running towards them.
"The exit! Where is it!?"
Taking deep breaths to steady herself, Katarina dashed to the corner and tapped the barrel there. Understanding her, Cooke helped her to move it aside – exposed a hole in the wall. Then he fired his pistol at the wolf men in the doorway at the other end of the room – but missed as they ducked down. Meanwhile, Abbots was reloading.
"Go!" Cooke urged Katarina, waving at the hole. Nodding, she wigged her way in…
"Uff…!" Cooke exclaimed, as the panicking Abbots tried to push his way past him. "Abbots – your pistol is ready to fire! Guard my back as I go in!"
But the private wasn't having it. The two men scuffled – and then one of the wolf men dived upon Abbots, grabbing his leg. The pistol hit the floor, and accidently fired – sending a bullet into the belly of the reckless soldier. He screamed.
Scenting the blood, the second of the Feral Kin directed his attention to Abbots – ignoring Cooke for the moment as the private was assaulted by both of their pursuers. His cries turned into piercing wails.
Without a loaded gun at hand, Cooke instinctively dived for the hole and burrowed into it, before he heard the splatter of Abbots's blood.
Emerging from the hole, he found himself in a dingy stairwell with crumbling steps. Katarina quickly helped him up as he fought to control his rapid breathing and overcome his rising bile.
"Thank you… Not escaping from me, now?" He smiled weakly.
Katarina shook her head. "Reckon we need to stick together. But I left the samples in the kitchen, in my rush to get out!"
"Blast! So did I…"
"That creepy Private of yours…?"
"Hopefully, Abbots will give those creatures indigestion! Now let's put some distance in-between them and us, and find some weapons to take them out and retrieve those herbs and potions," Cooke urged Katarina, as he grabbed hold of her hand and raced up the staircase. But already they could hear the growling of the Feral Kin as they started to crawl into the hole.
Moments later, the Inspector and his prisoner emerged from the top of the stairwell and found themselves on the parapet walkway on one side of the fortress. The stone staircase leading down to the courtyard was at the corner of the parapet.
Unfortunately, the statue of a man was also on the walkway, at the top of the staircase that they needed. It turned stiffly towards them. Twin white lights glowed from where its eyes were. There was a faint cracking of stone as the thing grinned at them. Then, the living statue slowly took a ponderous step in their direction. Then another. Gradually it was gaining speed.
"Darn it! Sloan!" Katarina sobbed. "He…it…has come alive! Darcius and me… We're all that's left of this gang! The only ones still human at any rate…"
Cooke heard the Feral Kin clambering up the staircase from the kitchen. He glanced down into the muddy courtyard. There was a pile of gathered firewood close by, as well as the fortress's well…
And now they saw the first of the wolf men step out onto the parapet just behind them, the remains of Abbots dripping down onto his furred chest. The earrings suggested that it was Kelner the cook.
"Jump!" Cooke yelled at Katarina. As he did so, he noticed that she was fingering a charm in her free hand.
They jumped, and hit the rain-soaked muddy ground. Spluttering, the pair of them rolled over to where the ground was firmer. Seconds later, one of the wolf men – the unidentified one – had leapt onto the pile of firewood. But the wood soon gave way under the impact, and the lupine creature howled with fear as he was sent tumbling into the open well…
And glancing at the walkway above them, Cooke blinked in disbelief again. Kelner the Feral Kin and Sloan the living statue were fighting amongst themselves…
"They are not of the same army!" he gasped. He turned to face Katarina, and added. "That supports your visions of two beings and two armies, fighting over the town!"
"Yeah… At least that's lucky for us, right now!"
But the fight was soon over. As fearsome as Kelner was as a werewolf-like creature, his swiping claws and biting fangs were failing to harm his equally-inhuman opponent. Limbs grinding, Sloan locked his grasping stony hands around the neck and throat of the Feral Kin, and squeezed…
Kelner's howls were soon reduced to a wheezing whine – then was then cut off, as a loud 'snap' resounded. A moment later, the Feral Kin's body was pushed aside and over the exterior parapet wall, where it tumbled out of sight. A dull 'thump' followed.
Recovering their breaths, Cooke and Katarina helped each other up. But already the animated statue that had been – or perhaps still was – Sloan, was already striding back towards the steps that would lead the petrified man into the courtyard. Towards them.
Cooke glanced around him. There were no other foes within sight or earshot. He now realized that he had dropped his pistol as well in his flight, but…
"If we can overcome your former friend, we can retrieve the herbs and potions!" he rasped. "Any ideas?"
Katarina gulped, as she rattled her brains. "Yeah… There's a chance. C'mon – this way! To the eastern side of the parapet…," she panted
With the two of them partially caked in mud, the female outlaw led her custodian guard across the courtyard to the staircase that led up to the walkway on the opposite side of the fortress. Both of them were flagging now after their exertions. But seeing the living statue of Sloan gaining on them with a steady, determined pace, Jonathan Cooke gulped and forced himself on past the mental barrier of his exhaustion and his terror, as he raised one heavy muddy boot after another to climb the stone steps. Those stone hands were raised as the statue started to ascend the staircase after them, eager to claim another victim to throttle…
As he wheezed with the effort of climbing, Katarina helped him to the top by yanking on his hand. Eventually, they reached the walkway.
"Now… Leap after me!" the outlaw instructed him, as she gathered her breath and then jumped over the cracks in the stonework.
Cooke looked over his shoulder, and nearly swore. Sloan was almost upon him…
Then the living statue paused. It seemed to notice the cracks in the fractured parapet. The grin on the gray face shifted into a snarl.
"C'mon, Inspector! Jump!" Katarina hollered at him.
"It knows! By reason, or memory – it knows what outcome we're aiming for!" Cooke shouted back. "So we do what we must…" And with that, he ducked down and dived past the courtyard side of the statue, surprising it with his daring move. One stone hand swung towards him, but missed.
Heart pumping with adrenalin, Cooke rolled in a ball and turned onto his back. Then his bent legs kicked out straight – his heels slamming into the stomach of the turning statue.
The impact jarred the soles of his feet – but the thrust was enough to knock Sloan staggering back onto the cracked stonework, where the animated statue collided against the parapet. Then the walkway began to shudder and break up…
"Take cover!" Cooke yelled, as he hurriedly dragged himself back.
He caught a glimpse of the silent scream on Sloan's face. In the next moment, the walkway collapsed outwards onto the surrounding earth. The living statue broke up into countless pieces as it hit the ground, adding to the scattered debris and plume of dust.
Finally gaining his breath back after his hacking cough, Cooke looked across the breach in the perimeter wall, to see the white-faced Katarina clutching a solid part of the parapet as she lay sprawled at the edge of the devastation. She coughed, but grinned back to him.
"Good on yer, Inspector! It was still my idea, mind…"
"So noted, Miss Clark… Now, what was that charm in your hand?"
"Ahh… That. It's my lucky charm. Got it from the olde woods. Just don't ask me how…"
"I see… Now, let's retrieve those herbs and potions, eh?" Cooke declared as he slowly got up. "The rest of our party must be worried about us – and we're still got a doctor as our patient to treat…!"