Episode V - Haste and Hospitality

The Former Baron Von Spektr opened the front door of his ‘Grand Chateau’ with a flourish, letting the sickly amber light of evening pierce his hallway with rippling shafts.  The noise of the pipes grew louder and Ellis remembered that those were for circulating whatever that green fluid was that seemed to be required to do anything in Hypostatick Philosophy.  Essentially he was listening to the security system.  It was not encouraging to know that he was about to step outside of its protection.

“Are you armed, at all?” he asked.

“Oh goodness!  You know, I almost forgot!”  The Former Baron turned and began rummaging though the contents of a large umbrella stand by the door.  Eventually he drew out a complicated clockwork contraption made out of brass.  It vaguely resembled a crossbow.  “Now I know I left a quiver of bolts around here somewhere…”  He began rummaging again and Ellis took the opportunity to stare at the city beyond.

The sky was a greenish, orangey purple now and he could see the red orb of the sun, much larger and older looking than the one he was used to, sinking over the rooftops.  More than anything else, this sight cemented the knowledge that he really was in another world.  It seemed strange to think that the people of this world would think the same if they gazed upon the skies over Larksborough.

“Aha!”

Ellis turned back to see the Former Baron slinging the quiver over his shoulder, before clicking a lever into place on the back of it.  A frightening, barbed projectile slid forward along the mechanism and suddenly the crossbow was no longer a ‘complicated contraption’; it was a very deadly weapon.  Then a thought occurred to Ellis.

“Uh, Von Spektr?”

“Please, call me Franck.  Really, I insist.”

“Okay, Franck, is it possible that you have any weapons I could use?”

“Almost certainly.  What would you prefer, projectile, edge or blunt?  Mechanickal, traditional or hypostatickal?  Ancient, contemporary or experimental?  Clean, cruel or barbaric?  Brass, bronze or-”

“I think, if you don’t mind, I’ll choose one from the rack upstairs.”

“Oh.  So you were in the museum, were you?”

“Yes.  Sorry, was I not supposed to be?”

“Well, you weren’t invited, but it wasn’t forbidden.  What did you think?”

“It looked interesting.  You’ve collected a lot.”

“Oh, it wasn’t just me.  My ancestors helped… a little.”

“It’s quite impressive.”

“Well then, since you’re being so complimentary, then of course you may take one of the weapons.  They stood my family in good stead over the years.  Hardly any of them had to be retrieved from their corpses.”

“Okay… If I choose one of the ones that did, don’t tell me.”

The Former Baron was whistling some baroque melody in the hall as Ellis re-entered the museum and approached the weapons rack.  The choice of armaments was every bit as overwhelming as the incomplete list of options given by their owner had suggested, but Ellis was already fairly sure what he was looking for.

He had spent some time in his early teens taking part in a few live action roleplaying events.  It was precisely the kind of thing he looked back on now with a certain sneering embarrassment, but he still remembered a lot of the things they did at those events and amongst the activities he had enjoyed at the time was sword fighting.  On one occasion they had brought in a professional expert on swordsmanship - assumedly at great expense - and he had given basic lessons to whoever had wanted them.  The young Ellis had been told, to his glee, that he was a natural and for a while he had dreamt of being a great swordsman, fighting dragons and rescuing fair maidens, until things changed and, as far as he was concerned, he had acquired a life.

Now, staring at the Former Baron’s disturbing collection of weaponry, all those memories came flooding back.  He ran his fingertips over the hilts of several swords of different shapes and sizes, none of which really resembled the weapons he had wielded at the LARP events, or seen in films and games, and then he let his hands rest at the top of one,  knowing, somehow, that it was right.

Carefully even reverentially, he removed the blade from the rack, listening to the smooth note that rang out as he did so.  It was quite long and ought to have been rather heavy, but it was perfectly balanced and seemed to defy gravity just a little.  The blade was jet black, with only the sharpened edge revealing the gleam of metal.  It was curved and shaped almost like a jagged feather, or a wing, with teeth rising out of one edge to devour its enemies.  The hilt was silver covered with leather and there was an abstract pattern carved into the tang.  It was perfect.

There was a black scabbard with silver workings lying beneath the rack.  Ellis knelt, picked it up and pulled the strap over his neck and one shoulder, tightening it until it felt right, then he slid the sword into it, testing it a few times to see how easily he could draw it out again.  Once he was satisfied, he made his way back down the stairs.

“So,” began the Former Baron, stopping his whistling mid-phrase, “which one did you choose?”

Ellis turned to reveal the sword and the scabbard and the Former Baron whistled again, just one note this time, sustained.

“Oh my,” he said, “that is a fine choice.  It belonged to my great, great, great, great, great grandfather – I forget how many greats exactly – and he carried it into battle in the caves beneath Firebleed in, oh, it must have been the fifty third year of the Dhampyr dynasty.”  Ellis waited for the bad news, trying not to show his own agitation, but the Former Baron must have noticed, because he smiled one of his thin smiles and added, “Don’t worry.  He came back out again.  Died in his bed in the old chateau, years later.”

Ellis breathed a sigh of relief, then, “Shall we go?”

“The sword’s given you confidence now, has it?  Well then, might as well stretch our legs.”

They left Tentacle Lane as the sun was vanishing behind the rooftops and monuments and the last of the green hue was leeching from the sky.  Shadows stretched between houses, populating the deserted streets for a while, until they all merged together into the greater shadow known as night.  A purple moon rose.

The air grew cold and the cries of distant Grinders carried on the breeze from time to time.  Ellis shivered.  Conversation seemed best.

“So, you keep mentioning a war and you said the city was under siege.  I’m assuming that’s why there are Grinders roaming the streets and everyone has vanished, although that sounds more like an invasion to me.  What happened?”

“Siege, invasion, it’s all much the same in Shadow.  I suppose technically for it to be a siege the enemy has to be encamped outside the city, but there is no outside the city here, not really.”

“Surely the city ends somewhere.”

“At the water’s edge.  It gets thin in some places as well and is totally ruined in others, but, for all intents and purposes, this world is Shadow.”

“So, where do the Grinders come from?”

“They live in the city too, or, at least, parts of it.  Humans and Lithoderms have been fighting over it for as long as it has been there to fight over and before that they fought for the land and the right to build it in the first place.”

“Lithoderms?”

“Yes, that’s what we call the Grinders and their kin.  Some call them Stoneskins, but I prefer the traditional term.”

“So, there are more than just the Grinders, then?”

“Oh yes, there are Spiketails and Creepers, Shamans and Nightbloods and dozens of lesser species.  They cooperate sometimes or sometimes they fight amongst themselves.”

“So, are any of these other species on the streets tonight?”

“Oh, I doubt it.  The Grinders have been getting a little frustrated lately, that’s all, raiding a few of the smaller districts before breaching the wall into this one.  The Knights should be mopping them all up about now.”

“What took them so long?”

“Well, it’s a big city.  They can’t be everywhere at once and, besides, they are only Grinders.”

Ellis gave him a look.

“Oh, they might be fearsome enough and sure, if you let one catch you, you wouldn’t live long enough to regret it, but, for all that, they are terribly dim-witted creatures.  As long as you stay indoors they aren’t likely to be  much of a threat.  The only time they know how to enter a building is if one of the more intelligent Lithoderms tells them to.  Why else do you think I was  using them to test out that new weapon?  And that’s how this can be called a siege, by the way.  People besieged in their own homes by the idiocy of Grinders.”

“I suppose that makes some sense.”

“Indeed.  Anyway, keep your eye out for them tonight, prepare to run and hide if necessary, but fear not, the streets will be clear of them by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay then, next question.”

The Former Baron raised his crossbow suddenly and shot a bolt down the street.  Ellis nearly leapt out of his skin, scanning the way ahead for the burning eyes of a Grinder, but then he heard the thunk of the bolt into something thick and wooden and the Former Baron gave a wheezy laugh, “Fire away!” he declared, chortling the whole time, “Fire away, get it?”

“Um, yeah, anyway, the question.  When you were talking earlier about your ancestor, the one who had this sword originally, you talked about the Dhampyr dynasty, remember?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard that word before.  It means half-vampire, doesn’t it?”

“That’s it exactly.”

“Does that mean there are full vampires in this world as well?”

“Oh, goodness, no!”

“But, why not?”

“Because they’re extinct, of course, died out thousands of years ago!  The citizens of Shadow wouldn’t put up with anymore blood sacrifices and maidens held in thrall.”

“But they let half-vampires rule over them?”

“Well, there’s lot of respect for the noble bloodlines, until someone overthrows them, at least, and you don ‘t get much more noble than a vampire, now do you?”

“This is a very strange place.”

“You think so?”

They had travelled at a good pace for about half an hour when there was a roar right behind them and Ellis and the Former Baron alike both froze, their chatter dying instantly on their lips.  Ellis turned and there, eyes glowing fiercely in the dark, was the vision he had been fearing to see since they left the house.  The Former Baron held out his crossbow and unleashed a frantic flurry of bolts at the enraged beast, but each merely glanced off its slate-scale skin.

“I suggest that now would be a good to run,” he whispered.

The Grinder stared at them, the orbs of flame that made up its eyes twitching, then it opened its huge maw and let out a roar just a few decibels short of deafening and charged.

“Seriously,” the Former Baron shouted, his feet already moving, “run for your life!”

Ellis did not need to be told twice.  He spun on the spot and let his boots pound the cobbles as if they had committed some terrible sin and were deserving of the most severe punishment.  He followed the Former Baron and caught up easily, but running through the winding streets was not so easy at night as it had been in the morning and he found himself having to swerve at the last moment on several occasions to avoid becoming intimate with another wooden stall, or the lamppost of a unlit gas lamp and he stumbled over raised cobbles he could never have seen coming.  Judging by the crashing and groaning sounds coming from behind, the Grinder did not considerer any of these things to be obstacles.  Ellis tired not to imagine what would have happened to him and the Former Baron if that experimental gun had failed to fire.  Certainly the makeshift barrier of stalls would  not have been all that effective.

“Quickly, through here!”

Ellis dodged left, following his companion into a side alley he would not have seen if not for the glint of the crossbow in the purplish moonlight.  A few seconds later and there was a loud crashing sound as the Grinder skidded and tore through part of the same corner.  It let out another roar and, looking back briefly over his shoulder, Ellis saw it stagger back to its feet and begin chasing again.

“Left again!” called the Former Baron and Ellis nearly imitated the Grinder as he tried to make the corner.  Another crash seemed to prove that Grinders weren’t fast learners.

And then they found themselves at a dead end.

“Oh,” was all Von Spektr had to say for this depressing discovery.

The Grinder was still charging towards them, so Ellis drew his sword and prepared to defend himself, lining up the blade along his line of sight between himself and the beast, concentrating as hard as he could.  And then that concentration was shattered by a voice, one he didn’t recognise, whispering, “Psst!” in a very forceful fashion.  He glanced to his right and there was the face of a young woman staring at him through a crack in the door.

“Ah, the famous Shadow hospitality!” exclaimed the Former Baron in wonder, “Best not to turn down an invitation, especially under the circumstances, eh, Eli?”

Ellis nodded and together they ran into the darkness beyond the doorway just as the Grinder reached them.  The door was closed, the Grinder roared with frustration and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

NEXT EPISODE

PREVIOUS EPISODE