Darkness's Lair

The murky gloom of the cave stretched out before me as I strained my ears for any sound of movement. My breathing was shallow and I had an arrow nocked in my bow, ready for any threat. All I could hear was the dripping of water inside the cave. 

I felt something on my arm and turned, drawing my bow. I realised it was just a drop of water and relaxed with a sigh. 

“Thank Kyrineth we brought the super scout along,” Sister Izbeth said as she barged past me. My cheeks flushed. Izbeth confidently marched into the gloom, her longsword held up. Her polished armour reflected the light from our torch, causing it to dance across the cave wall like a fire sprite. 

Sister Margrit stepped past me with a disapproving look on her face. I dropped my gaze as she passed and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. She held the torch up to illuminate the cave while holding a shortsword in her right hand. I looked up after she had passed and noticed the battered shield strapped to her back. 

I followed them deeper into the cave. I tried to push the embarrassment away and focused my senses. My eyes darted around the cave, looking for any traps or hidden enemies. 

Our footfalls echoed around the cramped space. Izbeth threw up her closed fist and we stopped immediately. She signalled there was a large opening up ahead. 

Margrit took a cautious step back to me. “Are you ready for this?” She asked me, sotto voce. I nodded enthusiastically. She stared into my eyes. I maintained eye contact defiantly. She sighed and nodded back. 

Margrit gently placed the torch behind an outcropping to not give us away and equipped her shield. I understood her concerns. We were hunting a dangerous and cunning Necromancer. But it was more than that. She didn’t trust me. Neither of them did. 

Initially, I thought it was due to my status in the order. After all, it was unusual for an Initiate to go on such a dangerous mission. But I had excelled in archery and hunting, making me the perfect scout. 

Sister Izbeth had made it clear how little she thought of my ability, and the scouting unit as a whole. She preferred a more brute-force approach. Sister Margrit was more reserved, but couldn’t hide her distrust. 

Margrit and Izbeth were seasoned veterans of the Order Of Kyrineth’s Light. They had fought side by side on countless missions, defeating untold evil together. They knew each other better than most lovers. And that was the real problem. It wasn’t just that I was unseasoned, they didn’t know me. Couldn’t anticipate me the way they could anticipate each other, and I couldn’t anticipate them. They both saw me as a hindrance.

It hadn’t been as bad when we had first left the Cloister. Izbeth had made plenty of comments, but hazing by the Sisters was to be expected by Initiates. I had strived to earn their respect. I had used my keen hunting prowess to keep us well-supplied during our quest. 

But as we got closer to our quarry’s lair, Izbeth and Margrit became quieter and more withdrawn. I could feel them shutting me out as they prepared for battle. I felt like an accessory, there to supply them with food, but not an equal warrior of the Order. It was clear they didn’t want me there. 

We had been sitting around the fire, having enjoyed a rabbit that I had killed earlier. The fire crackled into the night, mixing with the sounds of the forest. I had been trying to find a way to bring up the incursion into the Necromancer’s lair. As a scout, my job would be to go in ahead of the Sisters. My leather armour and bow made me better suited to getting the lay of the land without giving our presence away.  

I said as much but was met with a scoff from Izbeth. “We might as well announce ourselves at the door,” she said before leaning back and laughing heartily. “No, I will lead the charge.”

“But Sister, it is the expected role of a scout-,” I tried to say. 

“I said we didn’t need a scout back at the Cloister, and we don’t need one now,” Izbeth interrupted before taking a bite out of a rabbit haunch. 

I looked at Margrit, pleading with my eyes. She sighed. “Klara, a Necromancer’s den is a dangerous place. You would be safer hanging back and providing covering fire.” I looked at the ground, defeated. 

The two sisters looked at each other, an unspoken conversation passing between them as I continued to stare at the ground. Izbeth stood and paced away from the light of the fire. 

“Klara,” Margrit said to me. I looked up and met her gaze. “It’s for your own protection.”

“With respect Sister, how am I going to gain the experience you both have if I shy away from my duties?”

Margrit gazed into the fire, her brow furrowed. Anticipation built in me as I awaited a response. Finally, she looked back at me. “Fine, you can take point when we reach the cave.” A grin broke out over my face. “But, the minute I decide you are putting us at risk, you fall back, no questions asked. Agreed?” 

“Yes Sister,” I replied, my smile still beaming. 

Izbeth watched us as we prepared for the coming battle. The faint light from inside the cavern danced behind her, casting shifting shadows over her face. Margrit adjusted the shield in her hand and nodded. Her armour had a blue tint that contrasted with the torch light. I gave my signal and took a deep breath. 

Izbeth charged into the cavern while yelling at the top of her lungs. Margrit followed her, adding her voice to the battle cry. I moved forward as they both disappeared into the cavern mouth, drawing my bow while scanning for targets. 

It didn’t take long to find any. Several animated skeletons stood around the cavern. They held ancient weapons and wore deteriorated armour. My fingers released an arrow, which flew across the cavern and took one of the skeletons in the neck. It exploded in a shower of bone fragments. 

Izbeth charged across the cavern and used her momentum to swing her longsword in a great arc, smashing a skeleton apart. Margrit brought her sword down, separating another skeleton from its arm, before following up with a shield bash, which knocked what remained to the ground.

The skeletons reacted to our attack and lurched towards us, rusted weapons raised. Izbeth continued to swing her longsword, easily dispatching the enemy. Margrit matched her pace, covering her from any flanking attacks. I quickly brought down another two skeletons and noticed more pouring into the cavern from several other tunnels. 

The skeletons were giving ground to Izbeth’s charge, unable to match her strength or ferocity. I moved forward to prevent us from being separated by the undead reinforcements filling the cavern. But my senses were nagging at me. Something was wrong. I slowed my advance and studied the cavern. And it struck me. The skeletons weren’t advancing. Instead, they had moved to block off our escape and were slowly closing in on us as we advanced. 

I turned back to Izbeth. The skeletons continued to give ground to her attack while only putting up token resistance. “Something isn’t right,” I said aloud. I looked past the melee and saw another tunnel ahead. Only this one was devoid of skeleton reinforcements. Suddenly, I understood what they were doing. “Sisters, wait,” I continued, raising my voice. Izbeth ignored me, caught up in the bloodlust, but Margrit turned back to me. “They are herding us,” I yelled. 

Izbeth continued to sweep skeletons aside with each swing of her mighty blade. I had to stop her advance before it was too late. “Izbeth stop!” I yelled. “They are leading us towards that tunnel.” But Izbeth continued to ignore me. 

I nocked an arrow and pulled the bowstring back. I took a deep breath and aimed into the tunnel and released the arrow. It flew threw the air and disappeared into the murky shadows before a bestial howl erupted from the tunnel, giving Izbeth pause. 

A creature from the worst of nightmares came barreling out of the tunnel mouth. It was a twisted, grotesque, monstrous parody of a vampire. It charged at Izbeth, trampling skeletons. It stood twice her height and sent her flying across the cave with a single strike. She hit the ground hard.

Margrit moved quickly and strafed the bestial vampire, slashing her sword across the creature’s abdomen. A foul ichor poured out of the wound and the creature howled in pain and fury before lashing out with its foul-tipped talons. Margrit blocked the blow with her shield, leaving a deep gash across the surface. Margrit countered and brought her sword down in an arc, separating the creature’s hand from its arm. 

It screeched as the severed hand fell to the floor. More of the creature’s foul blood came pouring from the wound and Margrit dived to the side to avoid it. I used the opportunity to fire an arrow into the creature’s throat.

But still, the creature did not fall. Instead, it charged at me, knocking down several of the remaining skeletons in its fury. I leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding its slavering jaws. 

I quickly rose to my knee and drew the dagger from my belt, prepared to give my life to defeat the creature, but as it stood over me a blinding light flared from behind it. I raised my hand to shield my eyes and looked at Margrit, who was chanting faintly. Her sword was held up and was emitting a powerful golden light. 

The light continued to build, getting brighter. The creature howled as its flesh started to singe and smoke. It charged at her, its jaws opened wide. Margrit continued to chant before opening her eyes. They were filled with the same brilliant light. She moved impossibly fast, driving her sword into the creature’s muscled chest. 

It howled as its twisted face contorted. A blinding light erupted from within the creature, appearing to melt it from the inside out. I was forced to look away as the light became too intense. A loud clap filled the cavern before everything fell silent. I blinked my eyes clear and the creature was gone, replaced with a heap of ashes on the floor. 

Margrit was kneeling, supporting herself with her sword, which had stopped glowing. She was panting with her eyes closed. I approached her. “Sister Margrit, that was incredible.” 

She looked up at me. “How is Izbeth?” She asked. I turned and saw her slowly getting up. I helped her to her feet. She nodded at me in thanks. We all turned to face the sound of faint footsteps. A small man wearing dark robes that hung loosely from his withered frame emerged from the murky gloom. 

“Sieur Remley I presume,” Margrit said sternly. Remley looked around the cavern at the heaps of bones and the pile of ashes. “By order of Castellan Vanesca, you are sentenced to death for the practice of the dark arts of Necromancy,” she continued in a monotone voice. “Izbeth, kill him.” Remley started to protest as Izbeth swung her longsword. The blade bisected his torso diagonally before he could utter a second syllable. 

With our quarry dead, Izbeth turned to leave, limping slightly. As she passed me she paused and clapped me on the shoulder and nodded at me before continuing. 

Margrit approached me. “I guess I still have some work to do,” I said to her. 

Margrit smiled. “For Izbeth that was pretty welcoming,” she replied. I smiled. “You did good today Klara,” she continued. “You have proven yourself.” She reached out and grabbed my shoulder. “Consider yourself one of our sisters.”